Daiki Aomine didn't understand the point of this stupid commercial.

He knew it was for some phone carrier, B-Mobile or something? Whatever. They had some kind of exclusive behind the scenes peeks at the Knicks, but that didn't explain why he had to make a fucking sandwich.

"Why am I doing this again?"

"You're advertising the behind the scenes look at the Knicks on G-Mobile. It's a joke, 'Oh, it's so behind the scenes that they're in Daiki Aomine's apartment, watching him make a sandwich.' It's funny, and it'll be memorable."

"Fucking stupid is what it is," he mumbled.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"No."

"That's what I thought."

They'd started filming, and he'd just put the mayonnaise on the bread when the apartment's other resident walked into the kitchen. Ryota Kise was barely awake, having come in late after a party the previous evening. Dressed only in his boxers and hungover, it could be said that he looked like hell.

"Morning, Aominecchi- what is a camera crew doing here?"

"I told you we were filming a commercial here today, Ryota. It's not my fault if you don't listen."

"But Aominecchi, I don't have my makeup on."

"Not like it'd help, with that hangover. And why do you keep calling me Aominecchi, anyway?"

Unbeknownst to them, the camera crew were still present, having recorded the entire conversation.

Ryota Kise was having flashbacks while filming his latest commercial.

It was just like when he used to model as a teenager. Come to think of it, he only really stopped to go to college, hadn't he? But it was different now, since he'd never been asked to make a sandwich while the camera crew filmed it.

Everything had been going great until his stupid boyfriend decided to crash the shoot.

"Hey, Ryota, what are you doing up so early? Come back to bed and I'll show the star of the LA Lakers a good time." Aomine decided it would be appropriate to walk into the frame, picking his nose with his right index finger, with his left hand scratching inside his boxers. "I'll show you why they call me the long dick of the law," he whispered into Kise's ear.

"You got that from Superbad, Aominecchi. Nobody calls you that besides you, I bet."

"Excuse me-"

"Matsuoka said it was big."

"Ryota-"

"Why do you keep comparing dick sizes with everyone you patrol with?"

"This is so-"

"I have to make sure mine's the biggest. And it will be if I don't compare with Yamazaki, at least that's what Matsuoka said. But he's on desk duty now, so I don't have to worry about him."

Meanwhile, the camera crew had no idea what to do. None of this was appropriate for television. Even if they tried to stop it, they were just ignored, so what was the point? They might as well just go, they thought. Luckily for them, the stupid couple didn't even notice.

Bonus: (can go after Kise or Aomine's stories)

"Shit! I forgot my lens cap!"

"Well, we haven't left the property yet. Go grab it quick."

Junior photographer Alex Barnes didn't know what he'd done to deserve this. He'd knocked on the door a few times, but there had been no answer. He was just about to open the door when-

"More, Daiki!"

Lens caps weren't that expensive, right?

Taiga Kagami knew it was his time to shine. He'd been approached by a major phone carrier (Z-Mobile? Maybe?) and they'd asked him to make them a sandwich. The idea was to show off their behind the scenes look at the Chicago Bulls, but little did they know, they'd be getting so much more than that.

"Taiga, this isn't a Subway commercial. The sandwich doesn't need to be that elaborate." Or that big, the director thought. Kagami was known by the fans as a big-eating loudmouth, but one who had quickly proven his worth on the team.

"This is what I normally eat, though," he said, confused.

"Should we have gotten a party sub instead?" The cameraman snarked.

Over the next several weeks after the commercial aired, it was the subject of heated debate.

"Have you seen that commercial with Taiga Kagami? There's a ghost in it!"

"There's no way! You're so lying!"

"No I'm not! He cuts off a piece of the sandwich and eats it! Kagami even ruffles his hair!"

Eventually, the "ghost" was revealed to simply be one Tetsuya Kuroko, kindergarten teacher at Williams Elementary School in Chicago and Taiga Kagami's longtime boyfriend. When asked why he had never mentioned a boyfriend, his only response was, "Nobody ever asked."

Shintaro Midorima couldn't cook. He knew this, and yet he accepted the offer to make a sandwich for a commercial. It couldn't be that hard, right?

It was about this time when he started to wonder how the Boston Celtics had accepted such a failure onto their team. Even if he'd said it was only for a few years while on the waiting list for Harvard Medical School, going pro hadn't been the worst thing he'd ever done. He was starting to think that dubious honor was going to dating the black haired man who was serving as a laugh track. He was supposed to be teaching high schoolers, not acting like them.

"Oh my God, Shin-chan! You suck!" In truth, Midorima's only real failure was putting a little too much mayo on the bread, causing the lettuce and tomato to fall out of the sandwich, but Takao had just finished grading 300 essays in 18 hours, and he could feel himself turning into a hyena. He was about to take out his phone and record the hilarity, only to be reminded that this would be on television (and therefore, YouTube) in a few months, so he could watch it as many times as he wanted. Hopefully they wouldn't cut his part out. He knew some of his students admired Midorima, and how cool would they think he was if they realized he was living with (and sleeping with, and dating) their favorite basketball player? Hopefully at least cool enough to get them to stop pronouncing his name as "Mr. Taco."

Atsushi Murasakibara just didn't get it.

He didn't want to make a stupid sandwich.

"Um, excuse me, Atsushi? What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna make a cake instead."

"You can't, Atsushi. We only have so long to shoot this, and I doubt we can edit this down into 30 seconds."

"I'm gonna make a cake." It was that tenacity and willingness to do something different that had endeared the people of Dallas to Murasakibara. A culinary school graduate, he was one of the last people anyone would ever expect to become an NBA player, but he had a way of doing things people wouldn't expect. He liked Dallas, but it was too hot for him most of the time. He never thought he'd ever think this, but he'd started to miss the Akita summers.

"I'm sorry, Atsushi, but it's just not feasible. You can't-"

"What can't Atsushi do?"

I'd almost forgotten about him.

Seijuro Akashi had taken the opportunity to relocate to America, deciding to start an American branch of his company. As if it wasn't bad enough that I had to deal with Murasakibara, now I have to deal with this rich guy throwing his weight around. If I let him bake the cake, will Akashi leave?

"Alright, make the cake."

"Sir, Seijuro needs to make the sandwiches himself. That's kind of the point of the commercial."

"But this is normal for me. Atsushi is the five-star chef, he's the one who cooks. It's either him or the maids."

Why did the Miami Heat attract so many head cases? Even for Florida, the team was filled with strange guys, but their star, the shortest player in the entire NBA, had them all beat. Maybe it was a side effect of growing up rich, or a contrast with a majority of the team, who had grown up poor, but he felt no need to do basic tasks by himself. He had a team of maids at home, and his ultra-chef boyfriend to cook his food.

Not that Akashi didn't have his own sympathetic backstory. Father kicks him out for being gay, uses his smarts to win a full scholarship to Yale, ends up in the NBA draft and signed to Miami. His boyfriend comes over from Japan and uses his culinary training to open a Japanese restaurant that became very popular, especially with Heat fans. Everyone expects Akashi to have a tiny boyfriend, but are shocked when they learn he's almost seven feet tall.

"Which is it going to be? We're wasting valuable time here."

"It's supposed to be you-" the director started, but Akashi either didn't hear it or decided to ignore it.

"Atsushi it is then. Atsushi, please make me a sandwich." Well, at least he says please to his boyfriend, the director thought.

"Yes, Sei-chin."

Once upon a time, I saw a commercial on TV with LeBron James making a sandwich. That is how this fic was born. You could call it a first day of summer special. (Slash minor Free crossover? Matsuoka and Yamazaki had to come from somewhere.)

MoriZuki is still coming on July 1.

Thanks for reading!

~Aurora