(Psst if anyone cares, I have a picture of Ko on my tumblr XD)

Anyways, hai and welcome to chapter 5 of SFSG.

Wahh guys, it's been a whole year and a little bit since this fic was published! Oh my my myyy~ Thank you all for sticking by me since I'm a slow updater, and I hope my current and future chapters never disappoint! We're nearing 90 followers (and that's pretty impressive for a pathetic fic with zero plot and only 5 chapters to its name) and you cannot imagine how swamped with happiness I am right now because THANK YOU, ALL OF YOU WONDERFUL WONDERFUL DARLINGS *HUGS TIGHT*

And so, behold the chapter where everything kinda becomes perff (tho it might not stay so, *nudge nudge*) I can tell some of you guys have been waiting for this (kekeke *looks at mai beloved Swirly-chan and Riina-chaan and winks*) so I hope I didn't disappoint!

Shhh~ sit back and enjoy! (FYI when I use Ko/Daiki, it's the POV of Ko, but Kimura/Aomine is Aomine's POV)

Disclaimer: I own KnB not.

Chapter 4: May

"What am I doing here." is all Ko huffs, suppressing another yawn and folding her arms around herself as she watches Daiki pick out the ninth pair of shoes to try on.

It's about 8 in the god damn morning, and on mornings like these – rainy mornings without a single hint of sun, moody and grey and achingly-sombre – she'd be asleep at home, nuzzled in thick blankets as the rain hammered against the windows outside. Ryouta-kun says it's practically a fact that rainy days are the best days to sleep in, and Ko agrees. Ko agrees with every fibre of her tired, Daiki-loathing soul.

But she's here. Here, as in about 3 stations away from her cozy home. Here, all wet and tired after running in the rain because someone forgot an umbrella. Here, watching as water slips in from between betraying doors and windows to puddle everywhere, soaking her shoes and hair and already-wet socks. Here, waiting for Daiki to get a move on because he shops longer than a girl, god.

With an irritated pang of pain in her heart, Ko realises that she. could. be. sleeping.

Gah, the things she does for Daiki and Sat-chan.

"How would I know?" Daiki drawls, inspecting the shoes quickly, before placing them back on the rack without further consideration. He trudges down the racks, eyes searching. Though he usually is a lackadaisical person, Ko figures that he can be a finicky piece of shit when it comes to basketball shoes. As much as she would appreciate it if he adopts the same attitude towards life in general, it cannot be said that she likes spending hours waiting Daiki mooch around in a store. On a rainy day.

"I'm here," Ko grouses, tightening her grip on her bag, "because Sat-chan is sick and couldn't come today, so she told me to help you pick a new pair of shoes. And I'm a helpful person."

Daiki holds up another pair to the light, trying to see if it was more blue than green. It wasn't. He drops those back on the rack, moving further down the row of shelves. "Ha. Joke of the fuckin' year."

Ko flushes, "I'd be more helpful if you bothered listening to me!"

"I'd listen if you stopped talking crap!"

"All I said was that those shoes were a size too big. How is that crap?" she demands, pigtails flying as she wheels around to glare at the unappreciative bastard that was Aomine Daiki.

He waves a noncommittal hand. "Details. I'll grow into 'em! 'Sides, that was the only size they had left."

"Suit yourself!"

"What do you think?" Daiki asks, shoving his feet unceremoniously to her face. Ko blinks, looking away from the racing raindrops by the windows to inspect the umpteenth pair that he has tried on. It takes a couple of seconds for her amber irises to focus on them, and she twitches.

"Daiki, your feet stinks." is all she offers, rolling her eyes.

"Shut up, Kimura."

Huffing quietly with laughter, tangerine eyes flash as she considers, nibbling on her lower lips as she contemplates. A thoughtful look flits over her face, "Too bright."

He shrugs and pulls them off, dropping them back into the box and folding the crinkly tissue over them. Ko sighs, picking up her bag and making her way over. She reaches out to help him slide the box back under the shelf, only to trip heavily on the rest of the displays, tangling her shoes with the crumpled papers scattered on the carpeting. Raising her arms to break her fall only serves to make even more of a mess as she dips towards the ground, kicking the mirrors below askew and knocking the shoes down the shelves.

"KYAAAA!"

Almost on reflex, Daiki reaches out to steady her, snaking his arm around her to drag her back upright. She gasps slightly, before putting her arms around his neck, fitting like she belonged—fitting a lot more closer than he would have expected. She buries her face into his neck and inhales, shakily, still trembling under his touch.

It feels right, somehow.

"Jeez. You're fuckin' clumsy," he sighs, tightening his grip around her waist as he pulls her close. Ko's cheeks heat—like red sunsets and yellow sunrises swirling together, and Daiki realises that it's a sight he'd never thought to see. And a beautiful one, at that.

(Fuck, when did he become such a sap.)

Ko clears her throat – and by now he's figured out that it meant that she was slowly getting embarrassed – and unwinds her arms from around his neck, stepping backwards to try and pull away from him, letting space bleed between them in a way that was miserably unwelcome. Truth be told, he misses her touch as soon as it's gone. He always does.

And he lets go.

"I know how you look at her~" Satsuki says, sing-song, as she camps by his table, textbook open on her lap. Her bag is tossed to the side of the room, its contents – books and clipboards and Akashi's precious data – strewn across the room, lying the destroyed calm of its dramatic woe.

"Ah?" Aomine looks up from his homework, twiddling his pen in the air as he thinks.

"I know." is all the pinkette repeats, resting her head on the table as she pokes a ruler to his chest, mischievous.

"The fuck don't you know, you creepy stalker?" he scoffs, swatting her hands away from him as he tries and fails to concentrate again. Damn it, Satsuki, he was almost in the mood.

"I don't stalk, I gather information."

"Call it whatever ya want, but I don't appreciate you sticking your nose into my business."

"Ko-chan is my friend! Also, when are you gonna stop calling her Kimura?" Satsuki wails, sticking out her lip as she surveys the pathetic being that was her friend, "I thought you guys were wayyy past that now!"

Aomine scowls, choosing not to grace that airhead with an answer. "Get back to your studying," he snaps, shoving her face back down into the book.

"Stop denying it, Dai-chan!" she says, bouncing back upright, only that all the traces of teasing have gone from her face. Disapproval clouds her eyes, edging into her voice with an undertone of fond exasperation. "How long do you plan to keep her waiting?"

"How long do you plan to keep yourself waiting?"

Here a bitter pain grafts itself into Aomine's skin, rips him apart outside-in, snapping the careless sutures holding him together, hiding himself—always hiding himself. He looks down, tracing lackadaisical strokes of pen with his eyes, wishing that life was every bit as easy as calculations and formulas and memorising dates.

"I don't know."

It's still raining during lunch, and by then he can tell Kimura is thoroughly done with him and life in general. He ends up buying three different pairs because he couldn't decide between black, blue or blue-er. It's not really his fault, since Kimura refused to help him pick.

"Quit grumbling," he says, flicking a fry in her direction as she struggles to squish into the seat with his bags, muttering furious obscenities under her breath. "It ain't my fault you didn't wanna do shit."

She opens her mouth, another scathing retort at the ready, no doubt, and he takes the initiative to shove the remains of his third burger down her throat. She lets out a muffled wheeze, before rolling her eyes and chewing reluctantly.

"Teriyaki? Really?"

"Oi," he says, pointing the straw of his drink at her. "I don't question you and your goddamn miso-absorbing habits."

She makes an affronted harrumph. "I don't absorb miso—"

The rest of lunch goes not-so-smoothly, with them having a mini-foodfight in the booth, much to the amusement and disgust of the waitresses. A couple of them wander too close to the war-zone, and emerge vandalised by ketchup. After few threats to kick them out into the rain, Kimura ends the fight by dumping the contents of her miso onto Aomine's lap.

"Don't get too cocky," he tells her, as he tries to salvage his jeans. "I'm let you off easy this time."

Kimura surveys the remains of their table, amusement rich in her eyes. It's a glorious sight to behold—the wrapper-strewn table and ketchup smears, that is. Satsuki would have cried.

"Let's go before they actually kick us out." she suggests, already winding her fingers around the carriers of his bag. Aomine shrugs, wiping the last of soup from his legs, before rising and stretching.

"Let's go then."

They spend about two minutes outside contemplating how to get to the station without being completely drenched. Not that Aomine really cares—his jeans were already wet, anyway.

"I can't believe you didn't bring an umbrella." she points out, her pigtails drooping as the rain showers onto them, seeping through her shirt and creeping into her socks. He watches as she wriggles uncomfortably, obviously ruffled by the water, and for a second he is reminded of a wet dog.

He stifles a snort, and shoots back. "I can't believe you didn't bring one either."

She sighs, flicking back her hair as she attempts to shield her bag from the rain, hunching over them like a protective hen. Rolling his eyes, Aomine strips off his jacket and holds it out, blatantly refusing to look in her direction. He watches the fleeting raindrops instead, tracing how they darted from the sky like silver needles, quick and constant and utterly nimble.

"Here."

"Haaah?" Kimura blinks, slightly taken aback. Aomine sighs like he's talking to a kid – and a rude one at that – before saying, "Put this on. You don't have a jacket, do you?"

She looks at it a little skeptically, as if he'd gone and hidden a scorpion in it, and mutters, in slight disbelief, "Really?"

"Yes, you damned idiot." he grits out. "Really. D'you seriously need me to teach you how to wear a fuckin' jacket?"

She reaches for it, lips pursed in contemplation, before voicing, "We could share, you know?"

"We could, but we'd both end up half-wet so you might as well hurry up and take it." he grumbles, running a hand through his hair because seriously, was the idea of him having manners something so foreign to Kimura? "I'm asking you to put on my jacket and not get pneumonia or something. Stop acting like I'm making you eat Satsuki alive."

She winces playfully at that, and chuckles lightly as she shimmies into his proffered jacket, poking her fingers through the too-large sleeves. She looks like a kid in his his clothes—but she looks good. Really, really good. There's a small blush on her face, gentle as sunset, when she mumbles, "Um, thanks."

Aomine subconsciously decides that if giving her his jacket was all it took to make her blush like this, then he's willing to freeze to death in the rain, again and again.

"...No problem. Besides, I – ah – still have to thank you," he mutters, drawing his gaze away from her face to look pointedly into the other direction, "for, uh, coming today. You didn't have to, but you did."

"That's okay," she says, quietly, skipping over so that she could look into his eyes again, her footsteps quick and nimble in the storm. Her face breaks into a small smile as she mumbles. "Because Daiki, I really, really—"

A deep breath, echoing gently in the rain.

"—really like you."

Oh.

He knows. Aomine knows—he knows how she looks at him, lingering and wistful and sometimes a little exasperated; he knows how he makes her cry sometimes, when he's especially blunt; he knows how she likes to watch him play, likes to see him move across the court like he owned it, all the way down to the last grain of asphalt. He knows all the things that matter, though he'd like to that pretend he doesn't – at least, until he's got the courage to tell her that he likes her too; that he's liked her ever since she gave him that middle finger like it was worth her fiery heart; that he likes her so much sometimes that it hurt to breathe, and if only he's figured it out sooner.

If only.

They're kind-of both idiots, in this way. Aomine snorts, pulling her close, pinching her chin to tilt her head up and look into her incandescent eyes, soft and molten and perhaps a little afraid. Water pearls on her eyelashes, dipping down to rest on her cheeks, before breaking open like a raw wound, racing down the sides of her face. A pang sparks in his heart as he wishes hard that he can smother the fear out, and keep her safe forever because even now she still looks like she needs to be protected and kept away from the rough world.

At first, he thought she was loud. Uncouth and rude but turns out that's just a facade to keep him away. Inside, she is soft and free; like clouds, ever-moving, transient, flowing, beautiful. He runs a knuckle down the curves of her face, watching as she bites her lips, looking down—looking anywhere but at him.

"D-Daiki?" stammers Kimura, eyes widening as he hooks his arm around her, and it feels as meant-to-be as ever.

"Be quiet." he rumbles, leaning in close, feeling the breath leave her and caress his face.

"I—"

"Just shut up and let me kiss you."

All protests are quelled when he presses his mouth against hers. Breathes a kiss on her lips, gentle as a breeze, softer than any kiss they've ever shared. Aomine kisses her like he means it, like saying I want you to understand, so please please please do. He kisses her like her name is a whispered prayer and he is but a mere supplicant. He kisses her like he wishes she was his—only, he knows that she had always been his from the start.

All breath is stolen from him when they pull away, pilfered from his lungs by a fiery thief.

"It's a pity our first kiss wasn't like this. I would've liked it to be, though." Kimura murmurs, pressed against Aomine's neck.

A rumble of a laugh echoes in his chest.

"Che, if you wanted to be kissed in the rain so much, you should've said so, idiot. Plus, don't girls like to be kissed under sakura trees, like in those pansy-ass shoujo mangas?"

"Not all girls!" she protests, burying her face deeper into the crook of his neck to hide the heated blush that was creeping across her cheeks and onto the tips of her ears. "Aho-mine!"

Aomine smirks, resting his face on the top of her burning hair. "If I kissed you again, would it be better?"

Kimura looks up—looks right into gunmetal eyes, blue like an azure dream, and smiles the cheekiest grin ever.

"Yes, please."

Her wish is his command.

"God, Ko, I love you."

She freezes. "Daiki, did you just call me—"

"What," he smirks, "did you like the sound of that?"

Her face flares.

"Heh," is all he says, dipping down to kiss her again. Their lips meet halfway, and she tangles her fingers into his cobalt hair, winding it round and round like the tangle of a spring breeze, so warm it's perfect.

Truth be told, he can get used to the taste of miso—

—as long as it was from Ko's lips, that is.

.:extra:.

"Momoicchi," Kise whines, tugging hard on Momoi's jacket. "When are we ever going to stop stalking them?"

The pinkette makes a sound that was very much betrayed. "Ki-chan," she wheedles, tightening her grip on a wild Kuroko to prevent him from sneaking off for another vanilla shake refill, "I thought we were one united fanclub! You too, Tetsu-kun!"

"But—" Kisa starts, only to be mercilessly interrupted by Momoi, who presses a finger to his lips. "Shhhhhh, Ki-chan! Don't ruin this for me, alright? It took me so long to set this one up for those lovebirds. I had to pretend to be sick and everything."

Looking solemnly into his cup of shake, Kuroko voices painfully, "Why am I here."

"Because we made Kurokocchi an honorary member of the Aominecchi and Kocchi fanclub, that's why! You gotta be present at all our meetings, you know!" Kise sparkles, pointing the sundae spoon at the other male. "You're lucky! Not even Akashicchi, Midorimacchi or Murasakibaracchi get to be honorary members!"

"WAHHHHH SHUSH, BOTH OF YOU!" Momoi squeals, pouncing on the table like a disobedient cat, pressing her face onto the glass. "THEY'RE LEAVING TOGETHER!"

Without even blinking, Kuroko cringes as the glasses on the table collectively spill off, rolling down the table to slosh their contents all over the floor. He reaches out to salvage the remaining of his shake, blinking forlornly at its spilled contents, and exhales.

"Momoi-san. My. Drink."

In the booth behind, hidden by a shitty disguise, Midorima coughs.

FYI if people forgot, Ko likes miso soup XD guh also, I'd like to be more inclusive of the GoM in the KoxDaiki antics, but I guess we'll see XD Akashi and Murasakibara'll be in the next omake, for sure!

Pssst IMPORTANT!

I made the biggest miscalculation on earth and now I realise that I have ONE WHOLE fodder chapter for fluff XD so since you guys are the readers, please do leave some comments on what you wanna see in the next chapter :D I'll try my best to cater to all your fluff wishes ;3 and write everyone's prompts and ideas, so go wild!

Ahaha anyways, sorry for all the dialogue *smiles sheepishly* If anyone cares, I can be found on tumblr under dunnoifGraluorNalu XD and do drop by to say hai~ I get lonely easily ;v;

Please review and feel free to drop some criticism X3 tell meh about what you liked/disliked about this, and your favourite scenes and whatnot hehe :D it's always great to know what I've been doing right and/or wrong! Once again, do drop some ideas/scenes for what you guys wanna see for the next fluff-fodder chapter (which will be 6!) Otherwise, I'll take uh...artistic liberty.

Tootles~!