Ship: Kise/Kasamatsu Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Word Count: 426
***
They leave him, slamming their briefcases on the table before picking them up, tightening his shackles against the chair, slamming the door shut behind them. There’s one-way glass up at the top, a strip too narrow to crawl through, should Kise figure out how to scale the walls before anyone watching could call in the guards (then again hurling the chair at the glass and taking on the guards to escape through the open door—Kise’s succeeded with much worse plans, though were they really bad if they’d succeeded).
At least they hadn’t touched his clothes this time, removed all of his electronics (burner phones with call histories deleted) and weapons. They’d let him keep the ring around his finger, the dull flat metal, inexpensive but hardly cheap, priceless. Kise thumbs it, the groove where the metal’s fused together under the pad of his finger. It’s not a wedding ring, an engagement ring, just a promise that when all of this settles down, when Kasamatsu’s given basketball the final shot (when he’s figured out a way to stay in the game on his terms or made peace with the fact that it’s not an option) and when Kise’s work settles down (the work Kasamatsu thinks Kise does!) that they’ll stay together. It’s not asking for marriage, engagement, a formal contract, an announcement in the newspaper. It’s just a promise of love, of faith in the things Kasamatsu doesn’t know Kise is keeping from him. Like this, that he’s a spy, a stupid spy who had been thinking about his boyfriend back home, the boyfriend who thinks he’s just the usual kind of salaryman, when he’d gotten caught in the exact wrong place.
Fuck. He’s gotten out of worse spots before; this is no time to play the romantic sap who dies his own kind of love martyr. The agency would never tell Kasamatsu the truth, veil it in careful voices and lies Kasamatsu’s grief wouldn’t let him question, or if he did it would be so easy from the outside to see delusion or the madness of mourning. Kise’s alive, though, right now; he’s alive and not dead yet and he’s certainly not planning on dying anytime soon, anywhere that leads to some path like that for Kasamatsu. He twists the ring on his neck again, then stands up on the chair, leaning such that it doesn’t fall over from the short distance from the cuff on his wrist to the one on the chair. He’ll be out soon; they won’t know what hit them.
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 426
***
They leave him, slamming their briefcases on the table before picking them up, tightening his shackles against the chair, slamming the door shut behind them. There’s one-way glass up at the top, a strip too narrow to crawl through, should Kise figure out how to scale the walls before anyone watching could call in the guards (then again hurling the chair at the glass and taking on the guards to escape through the open door—Kise’s succeeded with much worse plans, though were they really bad if they’d succeeded).
At least they hadn’t touched his clothes this time, removed all of his electronics (burner phones with call histories deleted) and weapons. They’d let him keep the ring around his finger, the dull flat metal, inexpensive but hardly cheap, priceless. Kise thumbs it, the groove where the metal’s fused together under the pad of his finger. It’s not a wedding ring, an engagement ring, just a promise that when all of this settles down, when Kasamatsu’s given basketball the final shot (when he’s figured out a way to stay in the game on his terms or made peace with the fact that it’s not an option) and when Kise’s work settles down (the work Kasamatsu thinks Kise does!) that they’ll stay together. It’s not asking for marriage, engagement, a formal contract, an announcement in the newspaper. It’s just a promise of love, of faith in the things Kasamatsu doesn’t know Kise is keeping from him. Like this, that he’s a spy, a stupid spy who had been thinking about his boyfriend back home, the boyfriend who thinks he’s just the usual kind of salaryman, when he’d gotten caught in the exact wrong place.
Fuck. He’s gotten out of worse spots before; this is no time to play the romantic sap who dies his own kind of love martyr. The agency would never tell Kasamatsu the truth, veil it in careful voices and lies Kasamatsu’s grief wouldn’t let him question, or if he did it would be so easy from the outside to see delusion or the madness of mourning. Kise’s alive, though, right now; he’s alive and not dead yet and he’s certainly not planning on dying anytime soon, anywhere that leads to some path like that for Kasamatsu. He twists the ring on his neck again, then stands up on the chair, leaning such that it doesn’t fall over from the short distance from the cuff on his wrist to the one on the chair. He’ll be out soon; they won’t know what hit them.