Ship: Alex/Masako Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Square: boring Sundays Word Count: 408
***
They make concrete plans so rarely that it always feels like a bit of a cheat when those plans get canceled, dropped by a sudden change in weather or circumstances several degrees outside of their control. But it’s never the end of the world, even if it’s disappointing for a few minutes; they always roll with it. And it’s not that they’d rather be playing basketball in the first place, but—who is Alex kidding? There’s a part of her, a part that she can recognize just as well in Masako, that holds a particular kind of love for basketball. There’s a part of her she always leaves out on the court, swishing through the hoop, tied to a block and bouncing between her legs like a dribble.
They don’t need excuse or pretense; they just do. Alex dribbles across, staying low, into Masako’s territory, trying to beat her there, but it’s futile against Masako’s iron defense, aggressive at picking off the ball and bringing it back to herself, taking it down the court and ducking away and around Alex. Alex stays high the next time down, keeping back, not driving too hard. Still, Masako pushes her back, out; Alex pushes back and closer to the arc. She takes the three-pointer anyway, a jumper above where Masako can reach to block, released at her peak. The ball clatters out of the hoop and Masako grabs the rebound. Alex swears under her breath.
Masako tries to get around her but Alex’s reach is too long; the few inches between their heights makes all the wingspan difference in the world, enough for the piece Alex grabs of the ball to send it closer to her as they both lunge forward. It ends up in Alex’s hands, though not for lack of trying on Masako’s end.
“Fuck,” Masako says, through a breath.
Alex darts forward, laughing, toward the hoop; she has enough time and uses enough energy to lengthen her stride to get right under the hoop for the easy layout. The score’s even now, and they’re just barely getting tired.
Maybe if they were another couple this would just be another boring Sunday with no plans and nothing to do. But they keep themselves occupied well, Alex thinks (and when she wins, she gets to steal a kiss from Masako at the side of the court, her hand cupping Masako’s sweaty, flushed cheek, more than just a little bonus).
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, B2, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Square: boring Sundays
Word Count: 408
***
They make concrete plans so rarely that it always feels like a bit of a cheat when those plans get canceled, dropped by a sudden change in weather or circumstances several degrees outside of their control. But it’s never the end of the world, even if it’s disappointing for a few minutes; they always roll with it. And it’s not that they’d rather be playing basketball in the first place, but—who is Alex kidding? There’s a part of her, a part that she can recognize just as well in Masako, that holds a particular kind of love for basketball. There’s a part of her she always leaves out on the court, swishing through the hoop, tied to a block and bouncing between her legs like a dribble.
They don’t need excuse or pretense; they just do. Alex dribbles across, staying low, into Masako’s territory, trying to beat her there, but it’s futile against Masako’s iron defense, aggressive at picking off the ball and bringing it back to herself, taking it down the court and ducking away and around Alex. Alex stays high the next time down, keeping back, not driving too hard. Still, Masako pushes her back, out; Alex pushes back and closer to the arc. She takes the three-pointer anyway, a jumper above where Masako can reach to block, released at her peak. The ball clatters out of the hoop and Masako grabs the rebound. Alex swears under her breath.
Masako tries to get around her but Alex’s reach is too long; the few inches between their heights makes all the wingspan difference in the world, enough for the piece Alex grabs of the ball to send it closer to her as they both lunge forward. It ends up in Alex’s hands, though not for lack of trying on Masako’s end.
“Fuck,” Masako says, through a breath.
Alex darts forward, laughing, toward the hoop; she has enough time and uses enough energy to lengthen her stride to get right under the hoop for the easy layout. The score’s even now, and they’re just barely getting tired.
Maybe if they were another couple this would just be another boring Sunday with no plans and nothing to do. But they keep themselves occupied well, Alex thinks (and when she wins, she gets to steal a kiss from Masako at the side of the court, her hand cupping Masako’s sweaty, flushed cheek, more than just a little bonus).