Ship: Kuroo Tetsurou &/ Yaku Morisuke Fandom: Haikyuu!! Major Tags: NONE Other Tags: Pre-slash?, Harry Potter AU or something Word Count: 732
I haven't read HP in a long time and my knowledge of broomsticks is minimal at best, but have this anyway!
***
They’re making an overnight flight up north towards Sendai for a friendly game, the three of them seventh-years bringing up the rear as their coaches lead the way, when it happens.
Like all big things, it doesn’t start out as much. The first sign of anything going wrong is the sudden jerk of Morisuke’s broomstick, easily one that could have been mistaken for a mild lapse in attention – after all, he’s in the middle of a heated debate with Kuroo over the feasibility of combining spells with Muggle furniture and technology. The jolt does startle him, though, and he grips his broom with both hands instinctively, holding it firm. The action isn’t missed by Kuroo, who breaks out of his train of thought for a moment to ask if he’s okay before lapsing back into his argument.
It’s fine. Morisuke’s broom is old - it was passed down to him from his older brother, and the back of its handle is fraying a little - but it’s still working; it’s seen him through six full years of Quidditch and he’s come out of it none the worse for wear, with two Quidditch Cups under his belt and hopefully another one in the upcoming season. Sure, sometimes it gets temperamental, but it’s always on its best behaviour during matches. Anyway, he’s already saved up enough to get a new broom, but he’s been putting off actually making the purchase for after the season ends.
At least, that’s what Morisuke thinks, until the broom suddenly shakes again, more violently this time, and he realises that maybe he should have just gotten the new broom, sentimentality be damned.
“Woah, hey, Yakkun -” Kuroo says, and Morisuke’s about to say I’m fine when his broom twists, and almost makes a full 360-degree rotation. The startled yelp that Morisuke lets out is entirely against his own volition. He leans down closer to his broom, hoping to reduce the vertigo and the lurching of his stomach, only faintly aware of Kuroo and Kai discussing something over his head, before his broomstick rushes downwards towards the ground, then comes to a sudden halt. Below him the streetlights glow, bright and nonchalant, uncaring of the fact that five hundred metres above them a seventh-year Seeker is at risk of falling to death because of his malfunctioning broomstick.
I’m too young to die like this, Morisuke thinks - and then he doesn’t get to think any more, because there’s a broom pulling level with his own, and he turns around to see Kuroo right next to him. Immediately he recognises the look on Kuroo’s face - it’s the one he wears when he’s on the Quidditch pitch, getting ready for a game; his jaw is set and his eyes are trained directly on Morisuke. Morisuke has never been the target of that gaze off the pitch, and the sheer intensity in Kuroo’s eyes makes his breath catch.
“Where’s Kai?” he asks in an effort to shake himself out of his stupor. Kai’s nowhere to be seen, and now that he’s looking around, his broom having stabilised somewhat, neither is the rest of the team.
“I told him to let the coaches know,” Kuroo says. “We’ll catch up with them later.”
“Yes?” Morisuke asks, baffled, before noticing that his broom is, in fact, still headed downwards. So is he. And so is Kuroo, who has one hand wrapped around the handle of Morisuke’s broom and the other around his own. Is this what his too-long limbs are for? Morisuke never knew that he’d ever be grateful for them. Not like this, at least.
“We’re going to land and you’re going to ride pillion on mine,” Kuroo says, and that’s when Morisuke notices that his voice is shaking. It’s not much, and to the untrained ear it probably would be undetectable, but Morisuke hasn’t been Kuroo’s friend for seven years without being able to pick up on things like this.
Something blooms burning in his chest. Kuroo’s worried. For him.
“Alright,” he says, allowing Kuroo to guide his broom down, metre by metre. His broom doesn’t act up for the rest of the journey, and he heaves a big sigh of relief when his feet finally touch solid ground.
When they take off again, Morisuke’s arms loop around Kuroo’s waist, and he leans against the heat of Kuroo’s back. He’s safe now. Kuroo won’t let him fall.
FILL: Team Grandstand, G
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Major Tags: NONE
Other Tags: Pre-slash?, Harry Potter AU or something
Word Count: 732
I haven't read HP in a long time and my knowledge of broomsticks is minimal at best, but have this anyway!
***
They’re making an overnight flight up north towards Sendai for a friendly game, the three of them seventh-years bringing up the rear as their coaches lead the way, when it happens.
Like all big things, it doesn’t start out as much. The first sign of anything going wrong is the sudden jerk of Morisuke’s broomstick, easily one that could have been mistaken for a mild lapse in attention – after all, he’s in the middle of a heated debate with Kuroo over the feasibility of combining spells with Muggle furniture and technology. The jolt does startle him, though, and he grips his broom with both hands instinctively, holding it firm. The action isn’t missed by Kuroo, who breaks out of his train of thought for a moment to ask if he’s okay before lapsing back into his argument.
It’s fine. Morisuke’s broom is old - it was passed down to him from his older brother, and the back of its handle is fraying a little - but it’s still working; it’s seen him through six full years of Quidditch and he’s come out of it none the worse for wear, with two Quidditch Cups under his belt and hopefully another one in the upcoming season. Sure, sometimes it gets temperamental, but it’s always on its best behaviour during matches. Anyway, he’s already saved up enough to get a new broom, but he’s been putting off actually making the purchase for after the season ends.
At least, that’s what Morisuke thinks, until the broom suddenly shakes again, more violently this time, and he realises that maybe he should have just gotten the new broom, sentimentality be damned.
“Woah, hey, Yakkun -” Kuroo says, and Morisuke’s about to say I’m fine when his broom twists, and almost makes a full 360-degree rotation. The startled yelp that Morisuke lets out is entirely against his own volition. He leans down closer to his broom, hoping to reduce the vertigo and the lurching of his stomach, only faintly aware of Kuroo and Kai discussing something over his head, before his broomstick rushes downwards towards the ground, then comes to a sudden halt. Below him the streetlights glow, bright and nonchalant, uncaring of the fact that five hundred metres above them a seventh-year Seeker is at risk of falling to death because of his malfunctioning broomstick.
I’m too young to die like this, Morisuke thinks - and then he doesn’t get to think any more, because there’s a broom pulling level with his own, and he turns around to see Kuroo right next to him. Immediately he recognises the look on Kuroo’s face - it’s the one he wears when he’s on the Quidditch pitch, getting ready for a game; his jaw is set and his eyes are trained directly on Morisuke. Morisuke has never been the target of that gaze off the pitch, and the sheer intensity in Kuroo’s eyes makes his breath catch.
“Where’s Kai?” he asks in an effort to shake himself out of his stupor. Kai’s nowhere to be seen, and now that he’s looking around, his broom having stabilised somewhat, neither is the rest of the team.
“I told him to let the coaches know,” Kuroo says. “We’ll catch up with them later.”
“Yes?” Morisuke asks, baffled, before noticing that his broom is, in fact, still headed downwards. So is he. And so is Kuroo, who has one hand wrapped around the handle of Morisuke’s broom and the other around his own. Is this what his too-long limbs are for? Morisuke never knew that he’d ever be grateful for them. Not like this, at least.
“We’re going to land and you’re going to ride pillion on mine,” Kuroo says, and that’s when Morisuke notices that his voice is shaking. It’s not much, and to the untrained ear it probably would be undetectable, but Morisuke hasn’t been Kuroo’s friend for seven years without being able to pick up on things like this.
Something blooms burning in his chest. Kuroo’s worried. For him.
“Alright,” he says, allowing Kuroo to guide his broom down, metre by metre. His broom doesn’t act up for the rest of the journey, and he heaves a big sigh of relief when his feet finally touch solid ground.
When they take off again, Morisuke’s arms loop around Kuroo’s waist, and he leans against the heat of Kuroo’s back. He’s safe now. Kuroo won’t let him fall.