Ship: Akashi/Midorima Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Word Count: 412
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When Akashi had moved in, there had been something in the back of Midorima’s mind, not fear but perhaps wariness that everything would change now. Seeing someone every day is quite different from living with them, their frustrations bleeding over to yours, carving out alone time in a shared space, what any or all of this means, really. He’s the one who had asked; he wants this as much as Akashi does. And it’s Akashi, and maybe that’s what’s making him a little wary, that there are still parts of him that aren’t quite good enough for Akashi, that he’s always given Akashi his best but there’s so much more underneath that.
Then again, Akashi’s always been good at seeing what lies below the surface.
He doesn’t flinch at it, though they fight. It’s usually stupid but almost unavoidable, when Midorima has a bad mood and nowhere to put it and Akashi’s put something in the wrong drawer, or when Akashi’s frustrated and short and Midorima takes it personally because even though maybe it’s not about him it still twists his intestines inside of him. And he shouldn’t be surprised by this perhaps, but he still is, the way Akashi adjusts and fine-tunes his routine to match Midorima’s.
He takes the extra hour Midorima allows himself on Sundays to lie in bed and not sleep but not do much of anything, talking or lying against him and staring up at the ceiling (perhaps seeing it so clearly makes it boring, but Akashi never says). He eats when Midorima does, not a rigid schedule but a pattern that he can adhere to. He learns where things go; there is space enough for all of his additions. He watches Oha-Asa with Midorima in the morning, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss Midorima’s cheek (for luck, he says, a twist of his lips and oh, Midorima has never felt this much).
There is space here; there will always be space here for the two of them, despite how much room Midorima takes up, despite the baggage Akashi brings. There is room for Akashi’s hands around Midorima’s waist, some old music station on the radio that’s just flipped to an ad, Akashi’s smile as he looks up through his eyelashes, the bright red of his eyes trained on Midorima’s, and Midorima swallows. And there is room for him to lean down and kiss Akashi and take as long as he wants.
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, G
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 412
***
When Akashi had moved in, there had been something in the back of Midorima’s mind, not fear but perhaps wariness that everything would change now. Seeing someone every day is quite different from living with them, their frustrations bleeding over to yours, carving out alone time in a shared space, what any or all of this means, really. He’s the one who had asked; he wants this as much as Akashi does. And it’s Akashi, and maybe that’s what’s making him a little wary, that there are still parts of him that aren’t quite good enough for Akashi, that he’s always given Akashi his best but there’s so much more underneath that.
Then again, Akashi’s always been good at seeing what lies below the surface.
He doesn’t flinch at it, though they fight. It’s usually stupid but almost unavoidable, when Midorima has a bad mood and nowhere to put it and Akashi’s put something in the wrong drawer, or when Akashi’s frustrated and short and Midorima takes it personally because even though maybe it’s not about him it still twists his intestines inside of him. And he shouldn’t be surprised by this perhaps, but he still is, the way Akashi adjusts and fine-tunes his routine to match Midorima’s.
He takes the extra hour Midorima allows himself on Sundays to lie in bed and not sleep but not do much of anything, talking or lying against him and staring up at the ceiling (perhaps seeing it so clearly makes it boring, but Akashi never says). He eats when Midorima does, not a rigid schedule but a pattern that he can adhere to. He learns where things go; there is space enough for all of his additions. He watches Oha-Asa with Midorima in the morning, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss Midorima’s cheek (for luck, he says, a twist of his lips and oh, Midorima has never felt this much).
There is space here; there will always be space here for the two of them, despite how much room Midorima takes up, despite the baggage Akashi brings. There is room for Akashi’s hands around Midorima’s waist, some old music station on the radio that’s just flipped to an ad, Akashi’s smile as he looks up through his eyelashes, the bright red of his eyes trained on Midorima’s, and Midorima swallows. And there is room for him to lean down and kiss Akashi and take as long as he wants.