Ship: Mayuzumi Chihiro/Akashi Seijuurou Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: tags omitted Other Tags: alcohol Word Count: 641
_(:3/
***
Of the many questionable things Mayuzumi prides himself on being able to do, perhaps the ability to fix electronics is the most useful, to others at least. As much as he wants to, he can’t subsist entirely off arguing over light novel tropes in niche online forums or figurine-collecting or winning kusaya-eating contests.
Akashi had suggested a weekend getaway to Okinawa late last week: maybe it would put Mayuzumi more in a writing mood, stop him from fiddling with everything from the oven timer to Akashi’s old laptop. Like, yeah, he gets a little antsy when he can’t find inspiration for his next novel, but doesn’t everyone?
“Not everyone installs Windows 10 into their seven-year-old watch when they’re stressed,” Akashi had said, entirely ignoring the fact that his dark circles are even worse. Okay, Mayuzumi would admit, maybe he’s gone a little overboard. Not that he’d mention that to Akashi. None of his problems would ever measure up to the shit that would come with running a multinational enterprise.
Which brings them here to the beach, currently empty. Akashi is lounging on a hammock, sipping a cocktail the waiter had just brought. Like he’d have any chance of people walking in on them—Mayuzumi knows Akashi had given “a little talk” to the hotel management to get the beach emptied out tonight. Who’s more extra, huh?
Still, the only things interrupting their long, pleasant silence are the waves gently rolling ashore, and the staticky growl of the old radio Mayuzumi had found lying half-buried in the sand. Even on pristine beaches there’s shit like this everywhere—washed in by typhoons, or someone’s impulse buy left behind, though it’s intact enough to look antique instead of straight-up trash. He’s managed to fiddle with it enough that it makes a bit of noise, but it’s about all it does.
“You’re still working on it.”
It’s not a question—Akashi turns towards him, eyes half-lidded in the way Mayuzumi knows means he’s about seventy percent to tipsy. He looks at the radio, mostly clean of sand (it’ll never be completely clean, Mayuzumi knows), and then at the sea. “I wonder what we’ll hear when you finally fix it.”
Mayuzumi snorts. “Probably just the local weather channel or whatever. Anyway, it seems like a bust. I only have those batteries you asked the waiter for.”
“But you’re still working on it.”
He stops, realizing his fingers are still tapping on the dials, the grooves making little indents on his skin. Perhaps it’s really broken beyond repair, but there’s no telling what he’ll get out of it. “Yeah, you got a problem with that?”
Akashi laughs quietly, and Mayuzumi shifts from his position on the towel. He stands up, taking the radio with him, and walks towards Akashi. The sand beneath his feet is still warm as he plops down next to the hammock. “Still going overboard on vacation, I see.”
“You’re a little overboard too,” he tells Akashi, who merely smiles and offers him his drink. In the flickering light of the small fire in front of them the glass seems to glow; he takes a sip, and the taste is bitter. “Ugh, what the hell.”
“I asked them to surprise me.”
Mayuzumi makes to reply, but the radio makes a sharp noise, like scratching in the back of someone’s throat, then fades into a jazz number he thinks he’d heard in the bookstore last week. Akashi looks down at it, eyes a little wider now. “Oh?”
“…Oh.”
Well. Mayuzumi carefully places it down on the towel, making sure to keep it upright. “Guess it does work.”
“Good job,” Akashi murmurs, reaching for Mayuzumi’s face. He lets Akashi go at it, feeling soft lips on his. He tastes bitter at first, like the cocktail, but crystallizes into something much sweeter as they break apart.
FILL: Team Himuro Tatsuya/Nijimura Shuuzou, G
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: alcohol
Word Count: 641
_(:3/
***
Of the many questionable things Mayuzumi prides himself on being able to do, perhaps the ability to fix electronics is the most useful, to others at least. As much as he wants to, he can’t subsist entirely off arguing over light novel tropes in niche online forums or figurine-collecting or winning kusaya-eating contests.
Akashi had suggested a weekend getaway to Okinawa late last week: maybe it would put Mayuzumi more in a writing mood, stop him from fiddling with everything from the oven timer to Akashi’s old laptop. Like, yeah, he gets a little antsy when he can’t find inspiration for his next novel, but doesn’t everyone?
“Not everyone installs Windows 10 into their seven-year-old watch when they’re stressed,” Akashi had said, entirely ignoring the fact that his dark circles are even worse. Okay, Mayuzumi would admit, maybe he’s gone a little overboard. Not that he’d mention that to Akashi. None of his problems would ever measure up to the shit that would come with running a multinational enterprise.
Which brings them here to the beach, currently empty. Akashi is lounging on a hammock, sipping a cocktail the waiter had just brought. Like he’d have any chance of people walking in on them—Mayuzumi knows Akashi had given “a little talk” to the hotel management to get the beach emptied out tonight. Who’s more extra, huh?
Still, the only things interrupting their long, pleasant silence are the waves gently rolling ashore, and the staticky growl of the old radio Mayuzumi had found lying half-buried in the sand. Even on pristine beaches there’s shit like this everywhere—washed in by typhoons, or someone’s impulse buy left behind, though it’s intact enough to look antique instead of straight-up trash. He’s managed to fiddle with it enough that it makes a bit of noise, but it’s about all it does.
“You’re still working on it.”
It’s not a question—Akashi turns towards him, eyes half-lidded in the way Mayuzumi knows means he’s about seventy percent to tipsy. He looks at the radio, mostly clean of sand (it’ll never be completely clean, Mayuzumi knows), and then at the sea. “I wonder what we’ll hear when you finally fix it.”
Mayuzumi snorts. “Probably just the local weather channel or whatever. Anyway, it seems like a bust. I only have those batteries you asked the waiter for.”
“But you’re still working on it.”
He stops, realizing his fingers are still tapping on the dials, the grooves making little indents on his skin. Perhaps it’s really broken beyond repair, but there’s no telling what he’ll get out of it. “Yeah, you got a problem with that?”
Akashi laughs quietly, and Mayuzumi shifts from his position on the towel. He stands up, taking the radio with him, and walks towards Akashi. The sand beneath his feet is still warm as he plops down next to the hammock. “Still going overboard on vacation, I see.”
“You’re a little overboard too,” he tells Akashi, who merely smiles and offers him his drink. In the flickering light of the small fire in front of them the glass seems to glow; he takes a sip, and the taste is bitter. “Ugh, what the hell.”
“I asked them to surprise me.”
Mayuzumi makes to reply, but the radio makes a sharp noise, like scratching in the back of someone’s throat, then fades into a jazz number he thinks he’d heard in the bookstore last week. Akashi looks down at it, eyes a little wider now. “Oh?”
“…Oh.”
Well. Mayuzumi carefully places it down on the towel, making sure to keep it upright. “Guess it does work.”
“Good job,” Akashi murmurs, reaching for Mayuzumi’s face. He lets Akashi go at it, feeling soft lips on his. He tastes bitter at first, like the cocktail, but crystallizes into something much sweeter as they break apart.