Ship: Haizaki/Kise Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Word Count: 412
***
Shougo is late, as usual. Ryouta sighs and rolls his eyes; at least the shop windows are painstakingly cleaned so he can get a good look at his reflection, smoothing over his bangs and making sure there’s nothing on his face. And it gives him time to look at the wares for sale, overpriced trinkets and spices, silver and teas and a wide assortment of things he doesn’t need to buy. Why this is the designated meeting spot, well—Shougo had picked it; he gets the blame. If Ryouta stays long enough for him to show up.
Shougo doesn’t approach from the hills; Ryouta’s looking that way but he hears the sound of boots on the cobblestones, a breeze of ocean air, and there’s Shougo, hair wild, cloak with mud stuck to the bottom, hurrying down the street, no horse in sight. Ryouta raises his eyebrows; this can’t be good (it’s never good with Shougo, but still).
“Hey,” says Shougo. “I got us passage up north on a ship. Paid in full with what I got from my horse.”
Ryouta wrinkles his nose. “Do I have to work?”
“No, princess,” says Shougo with a theatrical sigh. “My horse is worth more than cabin boy fare.”
It turns out to be not worth much more, not that Ryouta had been expecting first class. It would be nice to have a bigger room on the ship, more rations at dinner, but this isn’t a pleasure cruise, and the small bed’s plenty big enough for both of them, the waves rocking them to sleep while Shougo’s curled around Ryouta’s body, his unkempt hair soft against Ryouta’s neck. This isn’t the adventure Shougo had promised him, all of those years ago, when he’d been barely a decent bandit and Ryouta had just been the youngest child of a metalworker, unbound to his father’s business or anything, really.
“I’ll take you somewhere worth seeing,” Shougo had said. “If you’re really that bored.”
And he hasn’t yet; the middle of the ocean in a transport ship seems no closer than lying at home listening to the sounds of the shop a few meters over as his father worked into the night. And maybe it’s foolish to put his faith in someone like Shougo, but it’s not like Ryouta hasn’t done plenty of stupid things become and come out on top. Maybe he’ll run out of luck (or maybe Shougo’s tongue will do them both in), but maybe not.
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 412
***
Shougo is late, as usual. Ryouta sighs and rolls his eyes; at least the shop windows are painstakingly cleaned so he can get a good look at his reflection, smoothing over his bangs and making sure there’s nothing on his face. And it gives him time to look at the wares for sale, overpriced trinkets and spices, silver and teas and a wide assortment of things he doesn’t need to buy. Why this is the designated meeting spot, well—Shougo had picked it; he gets the blame. If Ryouta stays long enough for him to show up.
Shougo doesn’t approach from the hills; Ryouta’s looking that way but he hears the sound of boots on the cobblestones, a breeze of ocean air, and there’s Shougo, hair wild, cloak with mud stuck to the bottom, hurrying down the street, no horse in sight. Ryouta raises his eyebrows; this can’t be good (it’s never good with Shougo, but still).
“Hey,” says Shougo. “I got us passage up north on a ship. Paid in full with what I got from my horse.”
Ryouta wrinkles his nose. “Do I have to work?”
“No, princess,” says Shougo with a theatrical sigh. “My horse is worth more than cabin boy fare.”
It turns out to be not worth much more, not that Ryouta had been expecting first class. It would be nice to have a bigger room on the ship, more rations at dinner, but this isn’t a pleasure cruise, and the small bed’s plenty big enough for both of them, the waves rocking them to sleep while Shougo’s curled around Ryouta’s body, his unkempt hair soft against Ryouta’s neck. This isn’t the adventure Shougo had promised him, all of those years ago, when he’d been barely a decent bandit and Ryouta had just been the youngest child of a metalworker, unbound to his father’s business or anything, really.
“I’ll take you somewhere worth seeing,” Shougo had said. “If you’re really that bored.”
And he hasn’t yet; the middle of the ocean in a transport ship seems no closer than lying at home listening to the sounds of the shop a few meters over as his father worked into the night. And maybe it’s foolish to put his faith in someone like Shougo, but it’s not like Ryouta hasn’t done plenty of stupid things become and come out on top. Maybe he’ll run out of luck (or maybe Shougo’s tongue will do them both in), but maybe not.