Ship: Kise/Kasamatsu Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED Word Count: 403
hi i love baseball au
***
Kasamatsu knows it’s a dream, but that doesn’t mean he can control what’s happening. The diamond is empty; the umpires are gone; there is something on the mound. A jersey. Kobori’s, he thinks; Kobori was supposed to be pitching today. He turns to look to the dugout, but no one’s there. His catcher’s mitt is empty; it feels as if it should have a ball in it, two balls. He tries to focus, to make something appear, and it doesn’t. Maybe this isn’t a dream after all, but why is he here? How did he get here, and where the hell is everyone else?
He walks out to the mound; maybe the jersey will sprout into Kobori or something—except it’s not the number eight; it’s the number seven. Kise’s jersey. A sick sense of dread fills Kasamatsu; where is Kise? Where’s Kobori? Who had been pitching? Who—
The sound of the squeal of brakes outside of Kasamatsu’s window jerks him up and awake. It had been a dream; Kise, jersey nowhere to be found, is curled up next to him, taking up most of the mound. What had all of that meant? It’s stupid to ascribe too much to dreams, more than what’s been floating around conscious and subconscious thought, anyway. He’s worried about Kise, sure; who wouldn’t be after that leg injury? But that’s not just it. It doesn’t do much good to think about it in this kind of manner and when he’s this fucking tired, anyway.
“Senpai?”
Oh, shit. Kise’s not as light of a sleeper as Kasamatsu, but he still probably can’t deal with Kasamatsu shifting against him this much and the sounds of the street outside.
“Go back to sleep.”
Kise yawns, looking like he really wants to comply but narrowing his eyes at Kasamatsu.
“I just had a weird dream. About baseball.”
“Oh,” says Kise, snuggling against him and trying to pull him back down to the bed; eventually Kasamatsu gives in (he doesn’t want to think about it too much right now).
“You can tell me in the morning,” says Kise.
Maybe they’ll both have forgotten by then. That’s a long shot, for Kasamatsu especially; still it’s worth a try to forget, to have more peasant dreams, Kise batting behind him in the lineup, two-three; Kise lacing a double that bring him home, Kise firing a strike, a new pitch he’d picked up effortlessly.
FILL: TEAM HIMURO TATSUYA/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Other Tags: TAGS OMITTED
Word Count: 403
hi i love baseball au
***
Kasamatsu knows it’s a dream, but that doesn’t mean he can control what’s happening. The diamond is empty; the umpires are gone; there is something on the mound. A jersey. Kobori’s, he thinks; Kobori was supposed to be pitching today. He turns to look to the dugout, but no one’s there. His catcher’s mitt is empty; it feels as if it should have a ball in it, two balls. He tries to focus, to make something appear, and it doesn’t. Maybe this isn’t a dream after all, but why is he here? How did he get here, and where the hell is everyone else?
He walks out to the mound; maybe the jersey will sprout into Kobori or something—except it’s not the number eight; it’s the number seven. Kise’s jersey. A sick sense of dread fills Kasamatsu; where is Kise? Where’s Kobori? Who had been pitching? Who—
The sound of the squeal of brakes outside of Kasamatsu’s window jerks him up and awake. It had been a dream; Kise, jersey nowhere to be found, is curled up next to him, taking up most of the mound. What had all of that meant? It’s stupid to ascribe too much to dreams, more than what’s been floating around conscious and subconscious thought, anyway. He’s worried about Kise, sure; who wouldn’t be after that leg injury? But that’s not just it. It doesn’t do much good to think about it in this kind of manner and when he’s this fucking tired, anyway.
“Senpai?”
Oh, shit. Kise’s not as light of a sleeper as Kasamatsu, but he still probably can’t deal with Kasamatsu shifting against him this much and the sounds of the street outside.
“Go back to sleep.”
Kise yawns, looking like he really wants to comply but narrowing his eyes at Kasamatsu.
“I just had a weird dream. About baseball.”
“Oh,” says Kise, snuggling against him and trying to pull him back down to the bed; eventually Kasamatsu gives in (he doesn’t want to think about it too much right now).
“You can tell me in the morning,” says Kise.
Maybe they’ll both have forgotten by then. That’s a long shot, for Kasamatsu especially; still it’s worth a try to forget, to have more peasant dreams, Kise batting behind him in the lineup, two-three; Kise lacing a double that bring him home, Kise firing a strike, a new pitch he’d picked up effortlessly.