Ship: Akashi/Midorima Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Word Count: 408
***
Midorima gathers his robe around his shoulders. It’s cold tonight, the drafty air drifting through the palace and the corridors despite the best enchantments; he’s heard his teachers say that it builds character although perhaps it’s just their way of justifying subjecting another generation of students to the same way things had been when they were young. At any rate, Midorima knows he shouldn’t complain; the only reason he feels the draftiness at all is because he’s out later than he should be, slipping through the corridors when he knows the very predictable prefects out on rounds right now have gone somewhere else.
Still, there’s that not-quite hidden staircase they never check, the classroom none of the professors want and most of the students don’t even know to look for. It’s not some tall tale, like the Room of Hidden Things; it’s very much real, and very much empty. A room of possibilities, if Midorima were the more—romantic, he supposes—sort.
He slips into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him; there’s no need to enchant it that way and it rouses more suspicion than hiding in the closet and locking that (not that they’ve had to). Akashi is at the window, staring out; there’s no view of the lake from this side but it’s still lovely, the grounds stretching a browning green far out into the distance. Midorima doesn’t have to be there to see it in his mind, but why is he focusing on the scenery when Akashi is there? His school robe is slipping from his shoulders as he turns; of course the cold doesn’t affect him as much (then again, warming charms). He looks Midorima up and down, as if seeing something (but Midorima looks as he usually does, at least in his own opinion).
They’re not here to play gobstones tonight; he can tell by the look in Akashi’s eyes as he stands up and beckons Midorima over for a kiss, quiet as the night around him. His hand catches Midorima’s, taped; Midorima swallows. They could talk, about classes, the career choices they’re supposed to be making, the exams that are coming up sooner than Midorima would like (and Akashi, too; he accepts everything and pretends to be ready but he’s not, really). They could talk about gobstones, the Quidditch season when it resumes, all these things that are so inconsequential right now. Maybe they should just keep kissing instead.
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 408
***
Midorima gathers his robe around his shoulders. It’s cold tonight, the drafty air drifting through the palace and the corridors despite the best enchantments; he’s heard his teachers say that it builds character although perhaps it’s just their way of justifying subjecting another generation of students to the same way things had been when they were young. At any rate, Midorima knows he shouldn’t complain; the only reason he feels the draftiness at all is because he’s out later than he should be, slipping through the corridors when he knows the very predictable prefects out on rounds right now have gone somewhere else.
Still, there’s that not-quite hidden staircase they never check, the classroom none of the professors want and most of the students don’t even know to look for. It’s not some tall tale, like the Room of Hidden Things; it’s very much real, and very much empty. A room of possibilities, if Midorima were the more—romantic, he supposes—sort.
He slips into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him; there’s no need to enchant it that way and it rouses more suspicion than hiding in the closet and locking that (not that they’ve had to). Akashi is at the window, staring out; there’s no view of the lake from this side but it’s still lovely, the grounds stretching a browning green far out into the distance. Midorima doesn’t have to be there to see it in his mind, but why is he focusing on the scenery when Akashi is there? His school robe is slipping from his shoulders as he turns; of course the cold doesn’t affect him as much (then again, warming charms). He looks Midorima up and down, as if seeing something (but Midorima looks as he usually does, at least in his own opinion).
They’re not here to play gobstones tonight; he can tell by the look in Akashi’s eyes as he stands up and beckons Midorima over for a kiss, quiet as the night around him. His hand catches Midorima’s, taped; Midorima swallows. They could talk, about classes, the career choices they’re supposed to be making, the exams that are coming up sooner than Midorima would like (and Akashi, too; he accepts everything and pretends to be ready but he’s not, really). They could talk about gobstones, the Quidditch season when it resumes, all these things that are so inconsequential right now. Maybe they should just keep kissing instead.