ownworstenemy

it's pride month, you know I had to draw my fav dumbasses 🏳️‍🌈 ❤️💙

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Shaking his head, he reaches in the cupboard and grabs the bowls, setting them on the counter and making SURE this time, that there’s no accidental contact. “If you weren’t so Kagami.” What he means by that remains to be seen, as he busies himself with sitting at the dining table, drumming his fingers absentmindedly.

Kagami’s back is to him, and his eyes do wander. From that shock of crimson hair, rippling traps, the way that—dude get it together. “Is it almost done? Coulda already had 3 Big Macs by now.”

Leave it at that, leave it at that, leave it at that.

“Fuck you mean you wouldn’t do it like that? Huh? You think about that type of shit a lot? How to seduce me if you were a chick?” He laughs and it’s far too sharp and loud. It could be taken for nervous, even.

Leave it there. Please. For the love of god.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find a hot babe who thinks you’re God’s gift for winning the championship. Shocked it hasn’t happened already.”

Weren't so Kagami. Yeah, he doesn't know. There's no way he'd say that and then launch into big macs if he knew. "Whaddid you just say?" Kagami demands, but it's ignored.

"Quit complaining," he growls in response to the question. Aomine's getting on his nerves. "It'll be ready soon."

Wha--- huh? What? Aomine then launches into a weird and uncomfortable tirade about Kagami's flirting habits? It makes Kagami's skin crawl to be perceived like that, honestly.

He’s snickering. Even if he gets punched, it’s worth it. Too late, Aomine realizes he shouldn’t be antagonizing the only thing saving him from starvation. Time to dial it back just a notch. “Look at these, though.” He starts before pulling out his phone, the chair squeaking as he gets up in Kagami’s personal space once more, back leaning against the counter and forcing attention. He deserves it, he’s the guest.

“Mizuki, she’s like a model or sumn.” He holds up his phone, showing a Rakuzan cheerleader. “And thiiiis is uh,” he frowns as he swipes to a picture of yet another pretty girl. “I don’t remember her name, whoops. This is Takara…” it goes on like this for at least twenty pictures, sliding through his photo gallery of conquests like they were in fact, best buds. But his smugness is wiped away in a moment. Any other time he’d be so careful. He’s known for being careful. He cannot risk this getting out. But you know what they say about showing off, it bites you in the ass.

“And this is —“

He starts speaking before he realizes what he’s done. This time the picture isn’t of a pretty girl. This time, it’s of a still quite pretty man. He’s built petite, in a skirt and thigh high stockings. Around his neck is a little collar with a bell. It’s just a screenshot from some random TikTok he saw. That’s it. That’s it.

“…uhh, that is um,” his brain short circuits. Think, think, think. Momoi messages him again asking what he’s doing. Yes, that’s it. “Momoi. I knew she’d like the outfit so I was gonna show her.”

He’s saved by his phone buzzing incessantly in his pocket. Momentarily distracted, he fishes it out, gazing over the 25 texts from Momoi, and now a call from Grandma. Wonderful timing. What’s he supposed to say? He’s getting made dinner by a guy? Maybe he shouldn’t answer. No, that’s too suspicious. Fuck.

“Kya galat?” (what’s wrong?) He finally answers, sipping the Pocari and leaning against the wall. The chief complaint is pretty simple. Momoi can’t get ahold of him and he’s at a random location. Momoi called his Aayi, and now here we are. Jesus, these women are so nosy. “With a friend. Hanging out. Yeah I know him from basketball. No you haven’t met him. No he doesn’t do drugs.” (He thinks?) He dissuades her concerns in Hindi, the most gentle and soft you’ll ever hear his voice. Aomine is relieved when she finally eases up, promptly exchanging goodbyes and hanging up. Talk about embarrassing.

In goes the can of coconut. It's white and pretty as it swirls into the orange, oily sauce. Kagami is uncomfortable with the prospect of being perceived as being especially nice, and confused by it because haven't they been bickering since the moment they set eyes on one another? Doesn't that negate the whole... nice stuff?

His stomach drops when Aomine talks to him again. When he goes from almost normal, a little uncomfortably close to not, to accusing him of making a move. Kagami's chin jerks back, causing double chins under his jaw. "What the fuck?" Why did he go to that first? Does he know something? What could Aomine possibly know? Maybe Momoi found out and told him that he likes guys, though? And this is how he responds? "You ain't got enough friends if you think you're getting hit on right now. Fuck. That's so weird."

Shaking his head, he reaches in the cupboard and grabs the bowls, setting them on the counter and making SURE this time, that there’s no accidental contact. “If you weren’t so Kagami.” What he means by that remains to be seen, as he busies himself with sitting at the dining table, drumming his fingers absentmindedly.

Kagami’s back is to him, and his eyes do wander. From that shock of crimson hair, rippling traps, the way that—dude get it together. “Is it almost done? Coulda already had 3 Big Macs by now.”

Leave it at that, leave it at that, leave it at that.

“Fuck you mean you wouldn’t do it like that? Huh? You think about that type of shit a lot? How to seduce me if you were a chick?” He laughs and it’s far too sharp and loud. It could be taken for nervous, even.

Leave it there. Please. For the love of god.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find a hot babe who thinks you’re God’s gift for winning the championship. Shocked it hasn’t happened already.”

“Huh?” Aomine offers, half from the bewilderment of just how big this place is, and also by the fact TAIGA KAGAMI is cooking for him? Was this the plan all along? Had he been played? What the fuck? “That wasn’t the bet. You were supposed to buy me dinner not make it.” Aomine is bitching, but he’s still unlacing his shoes and (somewhat) kicking them off, pouting at the betrayal. “And now I know you’re definitely not broke so you have no excuse. What, you trying to poison me?”

The dramatics simmer momentarily as he latches onto something else. The fact he really did need to take a piss. Whatever…they can argue later. He mumbles something under his breath in Hindi before shuffling off, wondering if this is how girls feel like when he asks them to “come over to hang out.” Wait, no. It’s definitely not like that.

The bathroom is huge, it makes him feel small. Lazy eyes wander over the various products, somewhat triumphant to find the name of the cologne. After washing his hands, yeah he could go yell at Kagami some more…but he was also told to do whatever he wants.

He takes the opposite way down the hall, his only driving factor being nosy. Before long he’s standing in Kagami’s bedroom, scanning like a detective. There’s a picture of a woman on his dresser, his mom? More shoes than Aomine owns, that bastard. His bed was made. What a square.

Sidenote: Kagami's Dad is rich. He is. There's no denying it in the penthouse apartment, and no denying it in the white walled, professionally cleaned, L.A. mansion. But Kagami Jr. isn't. Kagami Jr. gets enough money for food, but not for random spending. Anyway, he's not big on spending money he doesn't have to. He has the essentials and the comforts, whatever he's used to.

Aomine vanishes and Kagami gets down to business. Rice on in the rice cooker for ease, focus on chopping the ingredients and cooking the aromatics up. Quickly, the kitchen smells delicious, and Kagami's stomach rumbles eagerly. He notices the grim expression on Aomine's face when he comes back and is dead set on impressing him. He already wanted to, but that disdain is something he has GOT to prove wrong.

He’s saved by his phone buzzing incessantly in his pocket. Momentarily distracted, he fishes it out, gazing over the 25 texts from Momoi, and now a call from Grandma. Wonderful timing. What’s he supposed to say? He’s getting made dinner by a guy? Maybe he shouldn’t answer. No, that’s too suspicious. Fuck.

“Kya galat?” (what’s wrong?) He finally answers, sipping the Pocari and leaning against the wall. The chief complaint is pretty simple. Momoi can’t get ahold of him and he’s at a random location. Momoi called his Aayi, and now here we are. Jesus, these women are so nosy. “With a friend. Hanging out. Yeah I know him from basketball. No you haven’t met him. No he doesn’t do drugs.” (He thinks?) He dissuades her concerns in Hindi, the most gentle and soft you’ll ever hear his voice. Aomine is relieved when she finally eases up, promptly exchanging goodbyes and hanging up. Talk about embarrassing.

His Jordan’s squeak as he sulks in the corner of the elevator, looking everywhere but that pretty smug expression. “Dude you’re delusional. Pfft.” He scratches the back of his neck, the power dynamic shifting again, as it always does. At a frenetic, dizzying pace. He’s never been so happy to step out before, the proximity putting him on a buzzy edge.

Out of the elevator and toward his front door, Kagami battles with the key again (stupid, cold fingers) before opening into his stupidly large apartment which he just figures Aomine will chastise him for. Everyone always does, like he can help that! It's not like it's his money, anyway. It's his Dad's, and this apartment had been for his Dad. So he doesn't hold a lot of stock in its fancy looks. It gets the job done, and that's what's important.

“Huh?” Aomine offers, half from the bewilderment of just how big this place is, and also by the fact TAIGA KAGAMI is cooking for him? Was this the plan all along? Had he been played? What the fuck? “That wasn’t the bet. You were supposed to buy me dinner not make it.” Aomine is bitching, but he’s still unlacing his shoes and (somewhat) kicking them off, pouting at the betrayal. “And now I know you’re definitely not broke so you have no excuse. What, you trying to poison me?”

The dramatics simmer momentarily as he latches onto something else. The fact he really did need to take a piss. Whatever…they can argue later. He mumbles something under his breath in Hindi before shuffling off, wondering if this is how girls feel like when he asks them to “come over to hang out.” Wait, no. It’s definitely not like that.

The bathroom is huge, it makes him feel small. Lazy eyes wander over the various products, somewhat triumphant to find the name of the cologne. After washing his hands, yeah he could go yell at Kagami some more…but he was also told to do whatever he wants.

He takes the opposite way down the hall, his only driving factor being nosy. Before long he’s standing in Kagami’s bedroom, scanning like a detective. There’s a picture of a woman on his dresser, his mom? More shoes than Aomine owns, that bastard. His bed was made. What a square.

He KNOWS that the topic is making the other bristle, a silent melancholy that floats on the breeze and wraps around him, like Kagami’s cologne that was reaaally starting to get to him. He doesn’t push it further. Let that be where they leave it.

“Dope. Mr Independent. Do whatever the hell you want, sounds great.” Aomine replies through a lens of a teenage boy. It does sound great. Just like being Tōō’s golden boy, like being DAIKI AOMINE sounds great. But he knows there’s more to it. “Yo can I use your bathroom? I gotta take a leak.”

Truthfully Aomine’s taken by surprise when he peers up at Kagami’s place. Whoa. Wow. Holy shit. This is… “Damn. You’re really an Uptown Girl, huh.” He’s half hoping Kagami catches the reference, other half begging he doesn’t. Aomine watches Kagami try to fumble with his keys while holding such a treasure tribe of groceries. Tch. “Here, just gimme.”

Hands brush for an eternity and a millisecond all at once. Kagami’s are bigger, more calloused. Aomine has those slender piano player hands. From his mother. Maybe. It’s hard to remember details like that.

Yeah, sure. This living alone schtick is great. It's fine, Kagami really can't complain. He knows he's lucky to have a roof over his head and food in the fridge, and the NBA subscription is a nice side bonus on that big TV. But it gets pretty lonely by himself, even with all his friends from school. Even with the friends he's made who understand him a little more intimately than most people. Like Aomine, who knows what it is to be scorned for his skill.

Kagami doesn't understand the Uptown Girl reference. Or maybe he does, and Uptown Girl starts playing in a corner of his mind, but he ignores it. "Shut it," he says as a fine retort.

Kagami puts up a fuss about having the bag taken from him, and goes to tug it out of reach when Aomine's hand touches his. It's not for the first time, right? Maybe it happened at some point in the zone, in a steal -- or the failure of one. Kagami brushed his hand when he had been trying to reach the ball. It sends him right back to the Zone, anyway. He has flashbacks of their most intense moments. He doesn't know why. The bag stolen and well out of reach, Kagami blinks and starts going for the key again. OK, cool. Key in the door. He leads them into the air-conditioned, white-lit lobby of the apartment building and straight to the elevators.

His Jordan’s squeak as he sulks in the corner of the elevator, looking everywhere but that pretty smug expression. “Dude you’re delusional. Pfft.” He scratches the back of his neck, the power dynamic shifting again, as it always does. At a frenetic, dizzying pace. He’s never been so happy to step out before, the proximity putting him on a buzzy edge.

“Yeah, I was born there. Moved here when I was three.” Once again he’s initially annoyed at such a dumb question, before remembering they are not friends and know virtually nothing about each other off the court. Should they keep it that way? Well, he’s buying him dinner…

“Dad’s from here. Met mom on a work trip. Ta-dah, me. After they split, she moved back there. Dad’s company is based in the Philippines now, so I’ve just been staying with my grandma for awhile.”

Such an intense lore drop makes him wince. Was any of that necessary? He answered everything but the important question. He’s revealed too much. What if Kagami, oh god, asks more questions? What next? Does he have to explain that his parents were, and will always be, career driven over family oriented?

The fights they’d have when they thought he was asleep. That technically it got so bad that his grandma has had legal custody of him since he was 12? Not that his parents seemed to mind. They’d send him gifts, buy him whatever he wanted, would check in for his birthday, most times. Nah, they’re not gonna get friendly enough to divulge that. Momoi knows it all and that’s enough.

“It’s not real big over there.” He clears his throat, pace slowly slightly behind Kagami, trying to think of something snarky, he can’t. “Might visit this summer and I’ll be lucky to find a court. It’s all cricket. Bet you dunno what that even is.”

When Aomine continues, Kagami listens with a stiffened spine and nervous tingling in the pit of his stomach. He swallows it. It's not that big of a deal, right... ? Well, now he has all this information about Aomine he had never dreamed of asking about and no idea where to put it. No idea where to put Aomine. He clearly trusts Kagami with that information, huh? Unexpected. Kagami catches himself grumbling that of course he knows what cricket is. He's never played, because why would he, but he knows what it is. Duh!

Kagami bristles when asked about his parents. He can't help that. But he plays it off with a shrug. "I live alone." And for a moment, that's all the answer he gives. He doesn't know what to say about the divorce, he doesn't know what to say about the cricket. If he was to say anything it at all, it would be okay, because cool, thanks for the info.

He KNOWS that the topic is making the other bristle, a silent melancholy that floats on the breeze and wraps around him, like Kagami’s cologne that was reaaally starting to get to him. He doesn’t push it further. Let that be where they leave it.

“Dope. Mr Independent. Do whatever the hell you want, sounds great.” Aomine replies through a lens of a teenage boy. It does sound great. Just like being Tōō’s golden boy, like being DAIKI AOMINE sounds great. But he knows there’s more to it. “Yo can I use your bathroom? I gotta take a leak.”

Truthfully Aomine’s taken by surprise when he peers up at Kagami’s place. Whoa. Wow. Holy shit. This is… “Damn. You’re really an Uptown Girl, huh.” He’s half hoping Kagami catches the reference, other half begging he doesn’t. Aomine watches Kagami try to fumble with his keys while holding such a treasure tribe of groceries. Tch. “Here, just gimme.”

Hands brush for an eternity and a millisecond all at once. Kagami’s are bigger, more calloused. Aomine has those slender piano player hands. From his mother. Maybe. It’s hard to remember details like that.