Romance Drabbles Part 2

Author's Note: I realized I would probably not have the patience to go through a month's worth of drabbles if I keep writing at this pace, so...schedule shift to weekly for now.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

11. Fruit (Murasakibara Atsushi/fem!Midorima Shintarou, 459 wds, K+)

She claims to dislike sweet things; she gives him chocolate on Valentine's day with a flurry of excuses, such as it was her lucky item the other day (not true; he knows them all, from the bottle-opener key chain to the pink tote bag to the stuffed walrus) and that it totally doesn't mean she likes him or anything. He kisses her anyway, fists his hand through her thick green hair and knocks her glasses askew. She rises to her tiptoes, intimidated by the way he towers over her, even though she's the tallest girl in the class by at least fifteen centimeters. She is not soft and petite and delicate, like the other girls (who either are like that or convincingly pretend to be so) who giggle and wink; she tries her hardest to project an image of strength and utter unapproachability. They say things about her that intend hurt her, although she has long since developed a thick skin and good enough sense to not ever let them see her sweat. They say that she's really a man (no real girl would be this tall or strong), that she's a freak whatever she is, that even if she tried to act like other girls it would just be some horrible and insulting imitation, something crude. So she emphasizes her lack of feminine cuteness, staring longingly at boxes of pocky and cans of red bean soup as she sips her unsweetened oolong tea and hides today's lucky item deep in the bottom of her bag because it's a teddy bear cell phone strap and she's not cute enough for it to look good on her flip phone.

Someday, she's going to realize (and she has to on her own) that they'll never be satisfied with who she pretends to be, that they're not going to leave her alone unless she's truly comfortable with herself—even with the glaring, self-assured façade she puts on it's easy to find the weak spots. All he can do is inch her along, drop by the classroom and feed her sweet fruit, peaches and berries and plums and oranges, dividing them up into slices so that they can share. These she accepts, acting ungrateful and haughty, but almost screaming when he puts his fingers into her mouth to lick off the sticky juice. People will talk, she hisses, and this is a classroom and you shouldn't be so lewd, but it's worth it because she's so pretty when she's embarrassed and she's not really mad at him because she says it might be okay to do it once in a while in private, even though she really doesn't like the taste of fruit because it's too sweet and she doesn't eat sweet things.

12. Acceptance (Ootsubo Taisuke/Miyaji Kiyoshi, 324 wds, T)

Taisuke rolls his eyes whenever Kiyoshi calls him captain, because seriously they're friends aren't they? Kiyoshi has no reason to show him deference, or mock-deference for that matter. So why anyway? Kiyoshi turns his head down, using his lack of height (well, compared to Taisuke) to his advantage and mutters something about how Taisuke's not going to let it get to his head.

Still, Taisuke prides himself on being able to read people but he's not sure quite what's been going on with Kiyoshi lately. After a long period of thinking, knitting to keep his hands busy and not realizing just how long the scarf he's knit has become, and coming to no conclusions other than the fact that he needs more red yarn, he asks Shinsuke.

Shinsuke pats him on the shoulder and says, "I thought it was obvious. Kiyoshi likes you."

Oh. Taisuke can't help but feel his cheeks heat up at the notion, and although he hasn't concretely phrased his feelings—he has been thinking a lot about Kiyoshi lately, hasn't he? He's been thinking way more about the guy than he has about anyone else, any of his other friends or teammates, and in a different way. He needs to know what's on Kiyoshi's mind, needs to discern what he means, how he feels—it's all becoming clearer to him now.

"Thanks, Shinsuke."

"Hey, no problem, man," Shinsuke says, shoving Taisuke off the bench. "Now go get him, okay? I'm sick of his whole sighing-and-pining routine."

It's a good thing Kiyoshi's not here at this particular moment, because Taisuke is quite sure a pineapple would come hurtling toward them if that were the case.

Taisuke kisses Kiyoshi, half-aggressive and half-inquisitive, waiting to see how he responds. Kiyoshi's the first to deepen the kiss but also the first to pull away.

"Bastard captain," he mutters under his breath before he leans up and kisses Taisuke. "I wanted to be first."

13. Bright (Nakatani Masaaki/Alexandra Garcia, 252 wds, T)

He knows he's seen her somewhere before—his immediate thought is that she was once a model, because staring at her straight back and long blonde hair and the way she walks so confidently in high heels even though she's so tall (probably as tall as he is)—and those legs go on for miles and miles. He asks her, something he wouldn't do on an ordinary day, but today he's had a little too much champagne (Kimura's mother had absolutely insisted that he and the boys all take a bottle each, even as he protested that it was third place and some of the younger ones, Takao in particular, shouldn't be drinking, although in the end he'd acquiesced) and he actually feels kind of giddy, still holding onto some of that afterglow, even though it was a runoff game against a team without its best player.

She turns around and he's blinded by her smile, so bright it casts away the shadows of the cold winter evening. He almost can't move.

It turns out she's not a model per se, although she's done it a few times in the past. She's a basketball player, too, she says, and then it all clicks together. She recognizes him, too; she says she's always admired his ability to keep cool and that she tended to get a little too fired up, even as a pro. They share a laugh. Her smile is still dazzling; he begins to think that it will never burn out.

14. Illusion (Kise Ryouta/Midorima Shintarou, 119 wds, K+)

The light from the paper lantern flickers, and on the wall their shadows seem to dance, or at least that's what it seems like from Kise's half-closed eyes when he's lying on the futon. Truthfully, their bodies together form a kind of lumpy shadow now, when they're just lying next to each other, but if you're being romantic (and, Kise supposes, he has to be romantic enough for the both of them given the situation) it looks as if they're dancing.

"We're dancing, Midorimacchi."

Midorima is probably closer to sleep than Kise, and he grumbles something unintelligible (probably along the lines of "what the hell are you talking about?" although Kise will imagine it's "yes; I love the foxtrot").

15. Sunshine (Kimura Shinsuke/Ootsubo Taisuke, 243 wds, K)

The first time they met, it was sunny out, early spring, the opening ceremony. Truthfully, Kimura doesn't remember all that much about that day—he'd grabbed an apple on the way out and made sure to correctly button his uniform, but he cannot recall what route he took to get there. Somehow, he ended up crossing paths with an incredibly chatty guy who introduced himself as Ootsubo.

Kimura had been surprised to meet someone taller than him this quickly, though Shutoku has always been known for its exemplary basketball program. Still, this guy was larger than life, and he and Kimura were already fast friends by the time they reached the school grounds.

Of course, their paths diverged after that—Kimura played on the second string and Ootsubo the first; they were in different classes and travelled in different circles. They managed to say hi in the hallways and during practice, though, and the thought of being with Ootsubo—playing basketball with him, supporting that confident style somehow—that was what spurred Kimura on when the workouts got a little too tough and demanding and it seemed like he'd never get better at rebounding.

Now, they stand hand in hand. Kimura can't recall exactly how they finally got together, how many "accidental" touches or lingering looks or offhand comments it took before their lips met and they clutched each other's shaking, nervous bodies—but he remembers that that, too, was a sunny day.

16. Soft (Murasakibara Atsushi/Himuro Tatsuya, 172 wds, K+)

Nothing about Muro-chin is soft. His hips jut out sharply; his palms are rough; his gaze is steely; his legs are firm; his will is strong. He is delicate, yes, the way his hair faintly turns up at the end and some of the gestures he makes, the intricate details he puts into his words, into his basketball.

Atsushi is drawn to him anyway, even though he loves softness and warmth, pillows and sleeping and fleece jackets, and he always overdoes it on the fabric softener when he does his laundry but he doesn't care because it's so soft and feels so nice.

Muro-chin feels nice even though he's not soft, because he's gentle and kind anyway, even though sometimes he's selfish and unreasonable—Atsushi knows he's like that too much, so it's only fair for others to get their chance. No one's perfect, after all. Muro-chin won't really get it if he says this, though, so Atsushi just hugs him tighter and lets Muro-chin's hips and nails dig into his skin.

17. Ice (Susa Yoshinori/Imayoshi Shouichi, 363 wds, K+)

Of course Shouichi's good at ice skating. Why wouldn't he be? He's an athlete, for starters, and he's always had great balance. He understands thing well, too, picks up on the subtleties that no one else looks for, and he's a quick learner. So of course he can skate circles around Yoshinori, and he does it with that typical malicious glee on his face. Yoshinori's not a bad skater per se, but he's not all that good, either. He's decent, but rather slow, and he can't go backwards or make super crazy manipulations. It would be nice if Shouichi would just pretend to suck for a while so that Yoshinori could pull him along romantically, but…for some reason he won't.

Yoshinori leans on the side of the ice rink. A mother moves past with her young son, both of them wobbling but managing to make their way around the place. Yoshinori's left ankle is already aching, and he bends down to rub it and scowls. He's standing back up when a spray of miniature ice flakes hits him in the face. Shouichi grins at him, arms crossed, weight shifting from one leg to the other. "Tired?"

He grabs Yoshinori's hands in his and starts to pull him along, skating gently backwards. Yoshinori resolves to not tell him when he's about to run into someone, even if it means (and it certainly will, knowing Shouichi) that he'll get pulled down, too. Shouichi starts to go faster, and even though Yoshinori's probably not in any real danger he struggles to keep from panicking. They've been going around in a circle, but Shouichi decides to keep on going straight, though the path is relatively unobstructed. The wall grows nearer; Yoshinori says nothing.

Shouichi crashes against the wall and the momentum presses Yoshinori's body up against his, and when he starts to move backward and almost fall, Shouichi catches him, stops him from going any further than he is, which as of now is about five centimeters away from Shouichi.

Their mouths meet, and then Shouichi comes off the wall, meeting his body with Yoshinori's again, and this is better than skating around the ice any day.

18. Bed (Aomine Daiki/Murasakibara Atsushi, 425 wds, M)

Aomine likes to sleep as much as the next guy; hell, he likes to sleep more than the next guy. It's a suitable alternative to pretty much everything. Sleep is even more fun when it's after a vigorous round of sex and he's sprawled out with his hands still tangled in his lover's hands or hair, or at least in some way keeping in contact with warm skin. The thing about Murasakibara is that he keeps too close, likes to cuddle up to Aomine, practically engulf him (Aomine doesn't usually get much of a chance to feel small, but this makes him feel miniature) in his thick, long arms and his strong, muscled legs, and the sweat on his neck and chest doesn't even have time to dry and he feels like he's going to overheat when he's supposed to be cooling down. If he does manage to kick Murasakibara off of him while he settles into sleep, he'll wake up with his face pressed awkwardly against Murasakibara's shoulder, drooling on his neck (which he doesn't give a shit about) and matted purple hair denting his forehead. He tries to pull away but Murasakibara is too stubborn.

"Mine-chin needs to stay put," he'll say, as if Aomine is some kind of stubborn puppy or naughty child. Aomine resists, but he's still too sleepy to fight right now, and now he's way too used to it to be able to comfortably sleep alone. He's on the roof and the weight of the porn magazine or empty food container is not enough, not nearly enough to mimic the pressure of a larger body. The sun is too directly on top of him; the wind does not stir against him in the same way.

Sometimes he tries to go for sex when they wake up and he's especially refreshed, but Murasakibara won't have any of that either. He starts running his hands up and down Murasakibara's thighs and kissing his neck and Murasakibara sighs because he's too tired right now. He sleeps even more than Aomine does, and he's always tired and lazy and half-asleep, and he's got those extreme half-closed bedroom eyes all the time and he only kind of half-realizes what he's doing to Aomine sometimes (sometimes he uses it to his advantage, but those occasions are mercifully rare). Murasakibara clicks his tongue and clutches Aomine closer so he can't move and kisses him on the forehead and then just goes back to sleep, leaving Aomine half-hard and unable to do a damn thing about it.

19. Frail (Murasakibara Atsushi/Araki Masako, 218, K+)

It's not okay to make a move, Muro-chin had told him, until a year and a day after you graduate. Can you wait that long?

At the time it had seemed like an eternity, although there were more pressing things than grace periods on his mind, like how Muro-chin had even figured it out and whether he should go to sleep or eat a box of pocky or do some of his homework. But he had nodded and trusted Muro-chin because he always knew about these kinds of things and held his feelings inside.

He wondered if they'd disappear. He hadn't seen her at all since he graduated, but still thought of her often, thought of her fondly. He's not one to overanalyze his feelings and try and dismiss them as frail or trivial or decide that they fit in a certain category, so the time has not made him doubt the legitimacy of his longing. Whether it's love, infatuation, lust, admiration—he doesn't know yet. It will sort itself out with time.

Akita has not changed much in a year. He has not expected it to.

She has not changed much, either. She stands, leaning against the wall, clipboard in hand. She's waiting for him. Something not entirely unlike a smile plays on her lips. "Murasakibara."

"Masako-chin."

20. Holiday (Kobori Kouji/Nakamura Shinya, 297 wds, K)

Nakamura's like a butterfly, fluttering away, impossible to pin down. He shows up to practice and stays late practicing his shot, using every pointer Coach gives him—and still the ball bounces off the rim, off the backboard and straight back into his hands or to the floor. It's adorable and endearing how hard he tries and Kobori really wishes he could help, because the few times the ball does go in it's impossible to erase the small but brilliant smile from Nakamura's face. But other than practice and immediately afterward, it's impossible to find him in the halls or in his classroom. He's very quiet, but when he's there he can be seen—it's impossible to miss those eyebrows and that serious pouty expression that's almost always on his face.

Still, when Kobori asks, by texting him or somehow catching him, Nakamura always gives him time. He always gets that smile like he's just made a shot and blushes faintly. Their time together is limited, and as a result their relationship moves very slowly—they don't travel in the same circles (Kobori sticks with the other starting members; Nakamura has a few buddies from his class) and even in the basketball club their duties are quite separate and they don't ever come into much contact.

Their dates are like mini-holidays, breaks from their stupid reality when they can just relax and be themselves. They don't talk about basketball much, or school in general. They're sick of both of them by now. Still, when they go to the temple, Kobori grasps Nakamura's hands tightly and squeezes his eyes shut, wishing for these hands to be able to release a rubber ball more steadily and consistently, for the ball to fall through the hoop with a serene grace.

21. Gray (Susa Yoshinori/Imayoshi Shouichi, 163 wds, K+)

Why did they get an apartment on the forty-third floor of an insanely tall high rise? When the fog rolls in, the windows are engulfed in the gray and they cannot see out of the bedroom windows, or the living room, mist lapping up against the screens and seeping in, cold and wet, until they shut the glass and let the water condense against it from the inside, such that it is impossible to draw things in the frost—not that it stops Shouichi from trying every time. (His depth perception sucks, even with glasses.)

"What if I dropped you out the window?" Shouichi asks casually, stabbing at his breakfast with his chopsticks. "Would you vanish from existence, Yoshinori-kun?"

What a thing to say. Yoshinori shrugs. "Please don't say that with such a smile on your face."

"Are you implying that I'd do it?"

Yoshinori snorts. "No, I'm saying directly that you'd do it."

A chopstick taps his palm. "I wouldn't, you know."