Ship: Alex/Masako Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Word Count: 419
***
“Why not get your skates sharpened at the rink?” says Masako.
She’s trying not to smile as she says it, sweeping her hair over her shoulder as she takes Alex’s ratty skate bag.
“Too expensive,” says Alex. “And you do a better job.”
Those are both true, of course; the rink isn’t for hockey by default and most of the classes there teach basic moves or figure skating. Those are fine, but the kids they hire for minimum wage after school jobs, the ones who get stuck sharpening the skates, are mostly used to figure skates or the generic rental stuff from behind their counter. Masako’s a hockey player, though; she’s used to sharpening her own skates, the hockey skates young kids and her former teammates bring in, to the perfect point, so that when they step back out on the ice the blades cut through the right way.
Of course, the main reason is that Alex is here to flirt with Masako, not as hopelessly as she’d once thought it had been. Masako knows by now; she flirts back, talks about playing on the national team, dropping her gloves in rec leagues, all of which makes Alex more determined to invite her over to the rink, get her skating (passing a puck back and forth, racing from end to end, trying to deke on each other—so Alex is a forward and Masako’s on D; it’s not like she hadn’t had a scoring touch when she damn well wanted it; Alex has seen quite a few of her highlights).
Alex watches Masako work; she’s wanted to ask for a while if she can sharpen her own. She misses doing it, the feeling of being at the rink and tending to her equipment, not so much a ritual as lacing up her skates before every game had been, left side on top for a home game and right side on top for away, but something familiar and comforting to ease the tension in her back, to get her mind off her own mistakes she’s trying not to dwell on. She watches Masako’s face, the concentration on the routine activity; maybe Masako feels the same.
“All done,” Masako says, putting the skates back in the bag.
“Come with me to the rink some time,” says Alex with a smile. “See how well they work.”
“I’ll have to check my schedule,” Masako says.
“I’m there every day.”
(It’s an offer; perhaps it’s too bold, but—Masako dips her head in assent.)
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 419
***
“Why not get your skates sharpened at the rink?” says Masako.
She’s trying not to smile as she says it, sweeping her hair over her shoulder as she takes Alex’s ratty skate bag.
“Too expensive,” says Alex. “And you do a better job.”
Those are both true, of course; the rink isn’t for hockey by default and most of the classes there teach basic moves or figure skating. Those are fine, but the kids they hire for minimum wage after school jobs, the ones who get stuck sharpening the skates, are mostly used to figure skates or the generic rental stuff from behind their counter. Masako’s a hockey player, though; she’s used to sharpening her own skates, the hockey skates young kids and her former teammates bring in, to the perfect point, so that when they step back out on the ice the blades cut through the right way.
Of course, the main reason is that Alex is here to flirt with Masako, not as hopelessly as she’d once thought it had been. Masako knows by now; she flirts back, talks about playing on the national team, dropping her gloves in rec leagues, all of which makes Alex more determined to invite her over to the rink, get her skating (passing a puck back and forth, racing from end to end, trying to deke on each other—so Alex is a forward and Masako’s on D; it’s not like she hadn’t had a scoring touch when she damn well wanted it; Alex has seen quite a few of her highlights).
Alex watches Masako work; she’s wanted to ask for a while if she can sharpen her own. She misses doing it, the feeling of being at the rink and tending to her equipment, not so much a ritual as lacing up her skates before every game had been, left side on top for a home game and right side on top for away, but something familiar and comforting to ease the tension in her back, to get her mind off her own mistakes she’s trying not to dwell on. She watches Masako’s face, the concentration on the routine activity; maybe Masako feels the same.
“All done,” Masako says, putting the skates back in the bag.
“Come with me to the rink some time,” says Alex with a smile. “See how well they work.”
“I’ll have to check my schedule,” Masako says.
“I’m there every day.”
(It’s an offer; perhaps it’s too bold, but—Masako dips her head in assent.)