Ship: Aomine/Himuro Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Square: we are the poisoned youth Word Count: 475
more hockey au
***
There is ice in their veins, ice from under their skates running through their bodies, pumped by their hearts. They were born into warm climates dreaming of the coming winters, snowbanks and indoor rinks, street hockey with hardened asphalt under the wheels of their inline skates as a temporary substitute for the real thing, the real show. Daiki’s not sure he’s ever going to meet anyone who has this kind of connection with him, for this or any other reason, and he’s pretty sure—well, maybe thinking that kind of stuff is already too much for Tatsuya, and he’s not going to chance it.
There is ice in their veins where it should be too hot, flowing like a winter river in the north, and there is poison, too, Daiki thinks. There is bitterness; there is venom in the desperation with which Tatsuya takes every shift. He leaves it all out there, maybe more than Daiki had once upon a time (his bitterness is the way he sometimes wonders if he should hold back, until he remembers Tatsuya would never forgive him if he did it consciously or even not). It’s the hot acid with which Tatsuya delivers an open-ice hit, ruthless, against a guy with four inches and fifty pounds on him, the blue and black of the bruises up his leg and side, invisible under all those layers of padding but quite obviously there in the privacy of their house, in the shower, when Daiki tries to wash the skin tenderly and Tatsuya’s breath catches and he holds back the hiss of pain like a rattlesnake.
It is the crunch of his knuckles against someone’s face, the snap of his shot on the powerplay, off a faceoff and straight into the goalie’s chest, the curse he wants to bark at the ice. It’s the same thing Daiki feels when he’s racing to beat an icing call and the other guy slams him head-on into the boards and he whirls around, ready to throw out a shoulder and the play’s on the other side of the net. It’s the line brawl, but that’s the opposite of poison, Tatsuya at Daiki’s back, pulling off the worst of the lot and daring him to try and punch that pretty face (one of these days Tatsuya might get into trouble, but that day keeps looking awfully far away).
There is ice and there is poison and there are other things, things Tatsuya won’t let Daiki see (bares everything physically but won’t give up some thing, holding them close against the back of his mind, holding Daiki back like they’ve just dropped the gloves, circling, at arm’s length). Daiki’s not patient; he’s aggressive on the forecheck and always has been. But he can be patient; he can play the trap against Tatsuya. It’s worth waiting for.
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, C1, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Square: we are the poisoned youth
Word Count: 475
more hockey au
***
There is ice in their veins, ice from under their skates running through their bodies, pumped by their hearts. They were born into warm climates dreaming of the coming winters, snowbanks and indoor rinks, street hockey with hardened asphalt under the wheels of their inline skates as a temporary substitute for the real thing, the real show. Daiki’s not sure he’s ever going to meet anyone who has this kind of connection with him, for this or any other reason, and he’s pretty sure—well, maybe thinking that kind of stuff is already too much for Tatsuya, and he’s not going to chance it.
There is ice in their veins where it should be too hot, flowing like a winter river in the north, and there is poison, too, Daiki thinks. There is bitterness; there is venom in the desperation with which Tatsuya takes every shift. He leaves it all out there, maybe more than Daiki had once upon a time (his bitterness is the way he sometimes wonders if he should hold back, until he remembers Tatsuya would never forgive him if he did it consciously or even not). It’s the hot acid with which Tatsuya delivers an open-ice hit, ruthless, against a guy with four inches and fifty pounds on him, the blue and black of the bruises up his leg and side, invisible under all those layers of padding but quite obviously there in the privacy of their house, in the shower, when Daiki tries to wash the skin tenderly and Tatsuya’s breath catches and he holds back the hiss of pain like a rattlesnake.
It is the crunch of his knuckles against someone’s face, the snap of his shot on the powerplay, off a faceoff and straight into the goalie’s chest, the curse he wants to bark at the ice. It’s the same thing Daiki feels when he’s racing to beat an icing call and the other guy slams him head-on into the boards and he whirls around, ready to throw out a shoulder and the play’s on the other side of the net. It’s the line brawl, but that’s the opposite of poison, Tatsuya at Daiki’s back, pulling off the worst of the lot and daring him to try and punch that pretty face (one of these days Tatsuya might get into trouble, but that day keeps looking awfully far away).
There is ice and there is poison and there are other things, things Tatsuya won’t let Daiki see (bares everything physically but won’t give up some thing, holding them close against the back of his mind, holding Daiki back like they’ve just dropped the gloves, circling, at arm’s length). Daiki’s not patient; he’s aggressive on the forecheck and always has been. But he can be patient; he can play the trap against Tatsuya. It’s worth waiting for.