Chapter 2
There's something extra depressing about microwavable pancakes. Daiki glares at the cheerful blue package in his hand spitefully, as if it might be mocking him. Which, as far as he's concerned, it is. This breakfast only requires minimal proficiency with a spatula and ten minutes of your time...but you don't have either of those things, do you?
He has his doubts that the stiff, artificially brown circles he pours out of the box onto a plate are actually edible, but fuck it, it's Saturday. Yui wants pancakes, they're having fucking pancakes.
Once nuked, the pseudo-pancakes just seem kind of sad and floppy, but Daiki thinks he did a good job compensating with the syrup, and even sprang for whipped cream and strawberries. It makes the whole thing look a lot more appealing overall.
Yui has been banging on the table with her plastic fork excitedly since she heard the word "pancakes" leave his mouth, though now it's become a bit more of an impatient death march, rhythmically jabbing the the utensil into the cheap veneer as she watches him cut hers into manageable pieces.
"Pancakes!" she says commandingly as he brings over the two plates. Daiki supposes he should be glad she's got her lung power back, and is no longer sniffling pathetically, it's proof she's on the mend and sets his nerves a little more at ease. Still, though...
"What do we say?"
"Pancakes!" Yui says again, stabbing the table with the tines of her fork.
"That's not asking nicely, Yui," Daiki says, lifting her plate a little further out of her reach, "You know if you can't use your manners, I might just have to eat all this myself..."
"Pan! Cakes! ...Please!" Yui tries, and it still sounds more like a demand than a request, but Daiki has learned by now to pick his battles. He sets her plate down in front of her and joins her at the table.
It's been awhile since he's had time to actually sit down and have breakfast with his daughter. Most days it's all he can do to get her fed and out the door without being late for work, usually having to scavenge some kind of breakfast for himself later from a vending machine or something. Breakfast isn't exactly more extravagant at home, but at least he can slow down and actually taste what he's eating. Which, in the case of the microwaved pancakes, is surprisingly okay. Not the best thing he's ever eaten, but still...six out of ten.
"S'awberry!" Yui exclaims, with her mouth full. There are smears of syrup all over her face, and just a dab of whipped cream on the end of her nose.
"Yeah, that is a strawberry," Daiki agrees, poking at one of his own pieces thoughtfully. The vivid red fruit kind of reminds him of something.
Since yesterday, Kagami's number has completely washed off of his hand, but not before he'd entered it into his phone, just for safe keeping. He hasn't tried calling or texting it yet, doesn't want to give the cocky bastard the satisfaction, but now, as he pushes the strawberry around on his plate, he thinks about what else he could be doing with his day off today. The weather's supposed to be perfect, maybe Kagami would be down for a one-on-one later, to put their wager to the test.
Or would asking to play ball again just a day later make him look too interested? ...Does he want Kagami to think he's interested? Hell, even revealing that he actually kept the number that had been scribbled last-minute onto his palm after the game last night might start giving Kagami ideas...
Yui's fork clatters suddenly onto her plate as she stops eating and starts coughing, spraying the table with little wet crumbs and flecks of whipped cream. Daiki quickly snaps out of his thoughts and scrambles to his feet, seizing a napkin and holding it in front of her mouth as he presses the heel of his hand to her back, coaxing her to dislodge whatever object had caused her to choke. She coughs a few more times, and then spits a glob of partially-chewed strawberry into his hand. Then she draws a shaky breath, and he realizes he's been holding his, and lets it out in a whoosh. Her nose has started running again, so he folds the napkin around the offending fruit and uses the edges to wipe it dry, then offers her a sippy cup of juice.
Only when she takes a gulp of the juice and starts breathing normally again does Daiki relax, collapsing into his chair as reality descends back onto him...as it always does, whenever he starts to get carried away. He can't call Kagami. He can't have a social life, or, God forbid, a relationship; he can't fritter away his precious few days off playing free basketball with a guy who's only offering him a challenge to try to get in his pants. His priority has to be Yui, at all times, he can't let himself be distracted for even a moment.
"Better?" he asks when Yui sets her sippy cup aside. He's going for calm and gentle, but he thinks his voice still comes out a bit strained.
"Mhmm," she says, blissfully oblivious to his moment of panic, and picks up her little plastic fork to eat another strawberry.
.
.
"You don't think I can do it."
Satsuki sighed, clutching her textbooks tighter to her chest, "It's not that...Dai-chan, I just -"
"I meant what I said, you know," Dai-chan interrupted, looking down at her adamantly. Pouting, really, which took some of the intimidation out of his stubborn, towering silhouette and just made him look childish. And that wasn't helping his case.
"I know," she said, "And I wish I could believe you, but...well…"
"What?"
Satsuki hesitated. "It's...a huge job, raising a child. It's huge for two people. Even for two adults who are married, with a steady income and a house and everything, it's hard. It'll be so much harder for you to do it alone, when you have none of that. Besides..."
She paused, biting her lip thoughtfully. There was no delicate way to phrase her lack of faith in him, and she knew anything she said was going to piss him off, but she had to press on in spite of that. Because he was her friend, he deserved her honesty. She took a deep breath.
"Besides, Dai-chan, we both know you can barely take care of yourself, let alone -"
"I can take care of -!" Dai-chan began hotly. Indignant. Predictable. Satsuki shook her head.
"Dai-chan, you sleep fourteen hours a day if you can manage it, and you eat absolute garbage," she said bluntly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and meeting his hostile gaze, "You can't cook for yourself, you don't bother to clean…do you even know how to run a dishwasher?"
"It can't be that hard," Dai-chan scoffed, looking away from her petulantly, "I can just look that kind of stuff up, anyway."
"That's not the point," Satsuki sighed, lowering her arms so that the corners of her books dug sharply into her hips, "I'm sorry, Dai-chan, but you're...just not ready to take this on. You're like an overgrown child yourself; your parents still take care of you. I still take care of you half the time, and I don't think throwing a baby in your lap and hoping for the best is a very good idea."
She started to lower her gaze to the pavement apologetically, but a very large, strong hand clamping down on top of her head stopped her. She looked up, confused, and to her surprise, Dai-chan wasn't averting his eyes anymore. No, now they were trained directly on hers, and they were blazing with anger.
"You don't get to decide that for me," he snapped, his voice hard and unwavering, "You don't get to tell me what I can and can't handle, don't you think I've thought of all this shit already? Don't you think I know it's gonna be tough and things are gonna have to change?" He snorted, his irate face scrunching up with offense as he drew up to his full height, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Satsuki, geez…"
"I'm sorry, Dai-chan..." Satsuki repeated sullenly, and this time she meant it. Everything she'd said was true, but that didn't mean it was fair to him, considering he was struggling with this just as much as she was. And he certainly didn't seem to be taking their situation lightly, or trying to shirk out of it, as she'd initially feared he might. She hadn't been giving him enough credit.
After a moment, he let go of her hair, smoothing it down with a flat hand before gently nudging her back, urging her to keep walking. She did, having to take two strides for every one of his to keep up with his long legs.
"You're really serious about this, huh?" she asked after a moment, hooking her hair behind her ear to glance at him sidelong.
Dai-chan blew some air out through his nose impatiently, his focus still firmly ahead, "Tch. Don't ask dumb questions, Satsuki, it's not like you."
She supposed that answered that, and while neither of them said a word for the remainder of the walk home, she realized that she felt considerably lighter now, as though even the stack of textbooks in her arms hardly weighed an ounce.
.
.
"Wait, three hundred yen each?" Daiki hisses under his breath, putting the apple back as if it had scalded him, "What kind of classist bullshit...?"
He trails of in the process of turning around, squinting at the neighbouring fruit displays suspiciously. For a second he could have sworn he'd caught someone's eye, watching him from around the persimmons, but no one is there. Normally that kind of disappearing act crap would make him suspect it's Tetsu, but he got the distinct impression that this time his stalker was much taller...
Shaking his head dismissively, he stalks away from the pretentious pyramid of overpriced apples, giving up on produce for now. He can feel an annoying prickle of guilt in his stomach, as he remembers Tetsu admonishing him for relying too much on pre-packaged meals and not giving Yui enough fresh fruit and junk. 'Even if you don't know how to cook from scratch, you can still make sure she's getting enough vitamins in her diet.' But with this level of highway robbery at even the local supermarket, he fumes, it's just not realistic.
Frozen vegetables prove to be more forgiving, thankfully. Though he thinks, as he loads up on bags of carrots and snap peas, that Yui might not be as grateful for them as he is, and convincing her to eat them when he can't do anything more interesting than warm them up in the microwave is going to be a whole other battle. Usually his best bet is to eat them in front of her and exaggerate his enjoyment of them. He's probably eaten more green vegetables in the past year or so than in his entire adolescent life prior, just to prove to his daughter that they aren't actually poison.
"If you're making a stir-fry, I'd recommend using cabbage," A familiar deep voice cuts into his thoughts, as he's scanning a package of frozen broccoli for microwave instructions.
He jumps and whips around, clutching the package to his chest, "What?"
"Freezing takes most of the nutrients out of broccoli," Kagami says matter-of-factly, as if he didn't just sneak up on Daiki and give him a fucking heart attack, "Not to mention the flavor. I'd use cabbage instead."
"I'm not making a stir-fry," Daiki mutters diffidently, throwing the frozen broccoli into his basket. He doesn't say 'I don't know how', and hopes Kagami doesn't infer it.
Now that he's gotten over the shock, he's not actually that surprised to see Kagami here; he'd already had a feeling he was being watched, and the rest is just a matter of course. Of course the guy couldn't wait until the next time they dueled to stick his long, shapely nose back in Daiki's business.
"Then you want to go with fresh broccoli," Kagami continues, undeterred. He's looking Daiki over with a kind of casual interest, not judging him (yet), and as Daiki shoots a furtive glance at the bulging bags of fresh vegetables in his basket, he finds himself thinking he doesn't want to give him a reason to start.
"Thanks, but I think I've got it," he says, warding off any more well-meaning suggestions, and starts to turn away from him.
"Um," Kagami interjects, and Daiki stops, watching indecision flicker across that illegally attractive face, "You haven't called…" He trails off, seeming to realize how that sounds, and lowers his strange red eyes to stare at the cheap linoleum floor.
"So you noticed," Daiki says coldly. Instantly, he regrets it - what the hell for? - and attempts to soften the blow, despite himself, "...It's only been like three days, man."
"I know, but -" Kagami starts, before seeming to rethink whatever he was going to say, "I was gonna ask...if you're not doing anything later this week, if you wanted to -"
"I've already given you my terms," Daiki cuts in, trying to look as aloof as he sounds, and not show any second thoughts that could be used against him.
"I know," Kagami repeats, holding up his hands in a placating way, "But one of those terms was a one-on-one match, right? I was just thinking, if you're not busy, say, tomorrow night…?"
"I am busy," Daiki says, and it's the truth, and for some reason, he's kind of sorry that it is. Especially when Kagami's spirits appear to dampen at his blunt response.
"Okay then, how about Wednesday?"
Daiki shakes his head regretfully. He's still not sure why regretfully, but he thinks, just maybe, that Kagami notices this time.
"Thursday?
"I can't," Daiki says, looking away so he doesn't have to see Kagami's disappointment again. He feels like more and more of a dick with each refusal, but he doesn't think he has much of a choice.
"Man, your class schedule must be even crazier than mine," Kagami says at last. It's a loaded question, masquerading as a statement, and Daiki sees right through it.
"I'm not taking any classes...right now," he adds, after a moment's hesitation, seeing the way Kagami's split eyebrows start to furrow in confusion.
"Work, then?" he asks, apparently deciding not to pass judgment on Daiki's admission one way or the other.
"Yeah," Daiki says, because it's true, but probably not the way Kagami's imagining it. Most nights he's done with his various paying jobs by six pm, but strictly speaking, he's never finished working. His only full-time job is the one he can't quit.
Kagami still looks kind of disappointed, but accepts that short answer as explanation enough.
"Well, that's good…" he says, somewhat awkwardly, seeming to flounder for the appropriate response as his hands fidget anxiously in front of him. Daiki's eyes fall on his long, lean fingers, flexing and pulling against each other. "Um...what do you do?"
Daiki shrugs, and decides to throw him a bone - not that he's thinking of...boning, or anything. He's not thinking about what else those strong, curling fingers might be good for...he's not.
"A little of everything, I guess," he says quickly, shoving the thought that he's definitely not having aside, "I work at a warehouse mostly, but I also do some construction jobs, scrap metal salvage, auto repair…"
"Auto repair, really?" Kagami blinks in surprise, looking him up and down quizzically as though expecting to spot a monkey wrench somewhere on his person.
Daiki shrugs again, a touch defensively, "My boss at the scrapyard knew this mechanic who used to sell him old cars, and one day he hinted that he was looking for an assistant. It's sort of under the table, but it pays pretty well…"
"Damn," Kagami says, "And weekly streetball on top of all that...you're a busy guy. Are you saving for something?"
Daiki shifts uncomfortably, and averts his gaze, "...You could say that."
Truthfully, whatever money he makes just seems to slip through his fingers as fast as he can earn it, with rent and bills and other expenses stacking up ominously at every turn. But he isn't about to try and explain that to Kagami, with his basket full of fresh produce and his crazy schedule of college courses, and his hobby of playing the high-stakes games of gambling basketball that put food on Daiki's table more often than not.
Kagami waits, until it becomes obvious that Daiki isn't planning to elaborate, and then shifts his weight from foot to foot apprehensively. His legs are so long… Daiki finds himself thinking hazily, He's like sixty percent leg - oh my God, shut up.
"So um...are there any days when you're not as busy?"
Daiki hesitates. Technically, no, there shouldn't be, his primary occupation should take up every waking moment of his life (and most sleeping ones), but assuming he could get a babysitter one afternoon...assuming he could convince Tetsu or Kise to watch Yui for a couple hours...
"Weekends, maybe," he says, covertly, like he's admitting something criminal. It's shameful, it's thrilling, and for a moment he imagines a tiny window opening up before him, promising a taste of freedom from his routine of scraping and maintaining, desperately treading to keep his head above water. It feels like that's all he's been doing for over two years now.
"Weekends… This weekend?" Kagami asks, and goddammit, there's so much hope and excitement on his stupid, gorgeous face that Daiki doesn't have the heart to crush it. Still...
"Maybe," he repeats. Hopefully, he wants to add, assuming he can pull this off, assuming he can get away…he doesn't know what the chances are of that happening.
"Give me your number," Kagami requests, much the same as he requested that Daiki go out with him, three days ago, his words tumbling over each other in a rush as he formulates a plan, "I'll let you know when I'm off this weekend...if we're both free we can meet at the street court, and after I win, I'll take you out for a drink, my treat. Sound good?"
Daiki's surprised, yet again, by how forward he's being, how assured he sounds of his own victory, and he's even more surprised when a breathless "Okay," slips out unbidden in response. Just like that.
He's not prepared for the way Kagami's whole face lights up, practically glowing with pleasure and determination, and as his hand slips into his pocket to obediently retrieve his phone, Daiki realizes with a kind of creeping dismay that he's in deep shit. They haven't even done anything (yet), and he's already fucking whipped. God help him.
"So what exactly are you saving for?" Kagami prompts, still grinning broadly, as Daiki unlocks his phone and prays he isn't turning as red as he feels like he is. He's standing right next to a freezer but his face is on fucking fire... "New car?"
"Nah, I've already got -" he breaks off abruptly as he looks down at the screen, all the flustered heat draining to leave a chill of dread in the pit of his stomach, "Shit."
"What?"
"It's ten to seven. Fuck, I'm late," Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he grabs the handle of his shopping basket, only sparing a second to glance back, "Sorry Kagami, I have to go, like, right now -"
"But -! What about…?"
"I'll text you later," Daiki says hurriedly, waving him off as he turns to leave, not realizing what he's implying, what he's promising, with that simple statement.
.
.
Though they'd barely spoken two words to each other since he arrived, Tetsuya still got the impression that Aomine-kun was grateful for his company...he'd invited him over in the first place, after all. He himself didn't mind the prolonged spell of quiet at all; it gave him time to think, and catch up on his studies in peace. But, at some point, all comfortable silences had to be broken, and he supposed he would rather end this one on his terms.
"Have you heard from Momoi-san at all, since…?" he prompted, looking up from his reading and letting the question hang unfinished in the air. A dreadful habit he'd noticed he was picking up from spending such a long time in Aomine-kun's orbit, but he supposed there were worse attributes of his he could acquire than poor communication skills.
Aomine-kun grunted something charitably affirmative, but he wasn't looking at Tetsuya. His gaze was focused intently on the baby in his lap, fast asleep and clutching his shirt in her tiny fist. He still held her half-empty bottle of formula loosely in one hand, leaning it against one bent knee as he reclined in the same spot he'd been in for the past half hour, not talking, just feeding his daughter in silence while Tetsuya swiped through a PDF of his assigned article beside him.
"Once or twice," he said eventually, "She Skyped me after she got to Kyoto, but it's kind of been radio silence since then."
"And you've been getting on alright by yourself?" Tetsuya asked, shutting off his tablet and glancing emphatically around the room. "Since you've found a place, and all?"
It was a rather bare-bones excuse for a studio apartment, admittedly, with only three pieces of proper furniture adorning it so far; a naked futon on the floor in the bedroom, an unfinished but sturdy wooden crib, and the secondhand tatami sofa on which they were currently sitting. Still, it far exceeded Tetsuya's expectations, when he'd pictured the kind of living arrangements Aomine-kun could likely aspire to on minimum wage...mostly because it was so clean. He hadn't yet gone around checking every crevice for signs of mold or rot, but one could usually get a fair idea just from the smell. All in all, he thought Aomine-kun had chosen well...or perhaps had just gotten extremely lucky.
"Sure," Aomine-kun shrugged, seeming to take care not to disturb his sleeping daughter as he did, "I mean...it's uh…" he cleared his throat, sweeping his narrow eyes around their surroundings critically, "It's not glamorous or anything, but whatever. Beggars can't be choosers, right?"
Tetsuya watched his expression change pensively, analyzing as he often did, with some measure of fond exasperation. While fairly uncomplicated in word and deed, Aomine-kun still tended to stump people who didn't understand his intentions, but fortunately, Tetsuya counted himself as one person who did.
For instance, one thing Aomine-kun was certainly not known for was his humility...at least at first glance. But Tetsuya was well-versed in his language by now, and could see through the defensive front that he was in fact feeling self-conscious, bracing for embarrassment. He might even extrapolate from there to say that Aomine-kun was seeking validation, from the first person to see the humble homestead he had procured for himself and his progeny. In short, the backhanded criticism was a his way of asking Tetsuya's opinion.
"I think it's a fine start," he said at last, after taking some time to carefully choose his words. A fair assessment, he thought, and just enough praise to reassure Aomine-kun without feeding into his rapacious ego. "Though a table and chairs wouldn't go amiss, maybe some curtains and other homely touches…"
"Hey, I'm working on it," Aomine-kun retorted, but there was no real heat behind it. If anything, he looked relieved, "Anyway, I never have time to sit down and eat, and I still can't cook for shit."
"Hm," Tetsuya hummed thoughtfully, "Are you working on that, too?"
"Not...really," Aomine-kun grumbled, scratching his ear with his free hand, "I've been really busy lately."
"I know," Tetsuya conceded; credit where credit was due,"You look better now, though, than the last time we spoke - what was it, two weeks ago? I kept expecting you to fall asleep on your feet."
Aomine-kun barked a laugh, and somehow didn't rouse his daughter in the process, though she did stir a little as his chest jolted under her cheek.
"Yeah, 'cause two weeks ago Yui was waking me up every hour screaming her head off. Now it's more like every three hours, so I'm sleeping great," he cracked a sarcastic smirk, and Tetsuya thought it might have been the first smile he'd seen from him in almost a month.
He glanced at the slumbering baby nestled innocuously on Aomine-kun's stomach and frowned. He didn't think he'd heard her cry all that much, but that might have been more of a testament to how rarely he saw her than to her being particularly quiet. She's Aomine-kun's child...of course she wouldn't be.
"Hey...Tetsu?"
"Yes?" Tetsuya replied distractedly, studying Yui's scrunched up eyes and chubby cheeks with the same mild interest he used when observing strangers' behavior.
"I've got um...a favor to ask."
He looked up at that, curiously. Though Aomine-kun had a reputation, especially according to Momoi-san, for being routinely selfish and needy, it was very rare indeed for him to request anything of Tetsuya. He didn't seem to enjoy coming to him for favors, for any reason...this ought to be good.
"I've been hearing about these games of, uh…" he seemed to search for a way to put it delicately, and promptly gave up trying, "'Lucrative' streetball that are happening across town, a couple of my coworkers were talking about going to see one..."
"Lucrative, as in...gambling?" Tetsuya interjected, keeping the reproachfulness firmly out of his voice.
"Um...yeah, I guess," he shrugged quickly, trying and failing to break eye contact, unable to escape Tetsuya's gaze, "So I was wondering, if you'd be okay with -"
"You don't need to ask my permission to play, Aomine-kun," Tetsuya said, though he doubted that was the actual issue here, "We're not teammates anymore."
"No, that's not it," Aomine-kun confirmed impatiently, shaking his head, "The thing is...the games take place on Friday nights, and Yui's daycare closes at seven. I can't leave her by herself, so I was going to ask if maybe you could…"
Tetsuya just blinked at him, taken aback. Alright, so he hadn't quite expected this favor to consist of babysitting...though in hindsight, he probably should have seen that coming. And, granted, he was starting his undergrad in Early Childhood Education, but he hadn't really counted on it being this early.
"You want me to watch the baby," he stated, calmly and deliberately, "While you go off and play an illegal game of gambling basketball. Just to be clear, that is what you're asking for here."
"Yeah...something like that," Aomine-kun said. He could have at least had the decency to look properly chagrined about it.
"You do realize my roommates are going to be home during that time," Tetsuya warned.
Aomine-kun waved a hand dismissively, "Midorima should be fine, you said he only leaves his room to take a piss anyway."
"I most certainly did not say that," Tetsuya argued, "But you're right, it's not Midorima-kun I'm worried about."
"You really think Kise is going to cause problems?" he sounded surprised, which told Tetsuya exactly how little he knew about Kise-kun and children.
"For me? Yes."
Aomine-kun sat up abruptly. To better convince Tetsuya, or to set down the bottle he'd been rolling absently between his hands, Tetsuya didn't know, and it didn't matter, because as soon as he moved, Yui squirmed and let out an earsplitting wail, clinging to his shirt and screwing up her little red face in outrage.
Tetsuya recoiled instinctively, startled by the sheer volume of displeasure those tiny lungs were capable of producing, but Aomine-kun didn't even flinch. He just sighed and scooped her out of his lap, tucking her against his shoulder and lightly patting her back, swaying slowly as he did and making soothing hushing sounds. Tetsuya stared, despite himself, at the sudden transformation from petulant teenager to attentive parent right before his eyes, like a switch had been flipped that he didn't know existed.
After a few moments, Yui stopped screaming and gave a wet, hiccuping burp, before settling, completely pacified, against Aomine-kun's shoulder and presumably falling right back asleep. Aomine-kun exhaled with relief, and then glanced at Tetsuya resignedly.
Tetsuya brought his knuckles up to his lips and resumed considering his options. Options that Aomine-kun no longer had.
"...Just this Friday night?"
"Right," Aomine-kun nodded, and Tetsuya could see him reining in his emotions, trying for casual and noncommittal, for all the good it would do. Tetsuya wasn't fooled, he knew how much this would mean to him. The break in his cycle of monotony, the chance to let loose and do something he was actually good at, to play the game he loved while also fulfilling a practical need; two birds with one stone. A moment of escape. That was the real favor he was calling in here.
And if it did end up just being a one-time thing, Tetsuya would eat his house slippers. No, he knew full well that the moment Aomine-kun got a taste of his old love, this was going to become a routine.
But still, he found himself taking a deep, forbearing breath, and relinquishing it slowly.
"Alright. I can do that for you."
.
.
It's not the first time Daiki has slipped through the gridded glass double doors just under the wire, but he probably cut it a lot closer today than is strictly acceptable. Not that Yui's caretakers would dump her on the street the moment their facilities closed, but they would be displeased. And they would no doubt take out their displeasure on Daiki's wallet, which is something he just can't afford right now. ...Or ever, really.
"Sorry I'm late," he mutters over his shoulder as he stoops to collect Yui's things, half-listening to her happy babbling about stickers while he wrestles her uncooperative feet into her shoes. He only notices that she stuck quite a few of them onto his sleeve when he leads her outside to the car, holding her tiny hand in his.
"What are these?" he laughs, peeling a rainbow off of his shoulder and holding it out to her.
"Glitter stickers!" she exclaims ecstatically, reaching for the rainbow and pinching it between her finger and thumb, "Hitoka shared 'em!"
"Did you say thank you to Hitoka?" Daiki asks as he picks her up, sitting her down in her carseat and fumbling with the buckles.
"Yep," Yui mumbles, sticking the rainbow sticker to the car door frame. Daiki's surprised it stays there.
Satisfied that she's buckled in, he ruffles her hair and steps back, "Ready to go home?"
"Mhm. Can we have apple juice?"
"Apple juice isn't dinner, Yui," Daiki says seriously, and she giggles, "You can have apple juice with your dinner, if you also eat your vegetables."
He closes the car door on her sound of protest, and slides behind the wheel. It takes three tries to convince the engine to start, and he remembers Kagami's comment about saving up for a new car. Not likely.
In fact, Kagami's voice continues to infiltrate his thoughts for the rest of the evening. When he's dumping the bag of frozen broccoli he bought into a microwave-safe bowl, he hears him suggesting cabbage instead. Assuming Daiki knows how to make a fucking stir-fry.
When he's pouring Yui's apple juice, he remembers him saying he'll take take Daiki out for a drink after he beats him. Like it's just a fact that he is going to beat him, Daiki would like to see him try.
Actually...Daiki would love to see that.
And finally, when Yui's been put to bed in her crib that seems to be getting smaller by the day, and he collapses bonelessly onto his own mattress across the room, taking out his phone to set his alarm, that deep voice comes back to him one more time.
'You haven't called…'
Thumbing absently through his contacts, he selects Kagami's number and pauses, his stomach feeling inexplicably tight, twisting itself in knots as he stares at the message box, like he's fucking twelve again. He grits his teeth.
To Kagami
9:24 pm
Hey. It's Aomine.
He hits send before he can change his mind, and rolls over to go to sleep. No more distractions, no more second thoughts.
To Kagami
9:45 pm
Daiki.
TBC