#idek....

Of course, it wasn’t half as bad as Aomine seemed to be imagining, which was a point in Kuroko’s favor. There was some initial awkwardness, in the sense that it felt kind of unnatural for them to be hanging out off the court, without basketball in hand, but the controllers served as a decent-enough replacement, and soon enough that comfortably familiar atmosphere of competition had returned.

“I can’t believe you’re actually a Hanzo main,” Aomine grumbled, as they sat on the hero selection screen waiting for the timer to tick down.

Midorima raised his eyebrows. “Then you must not know me very well.”

Seeing the way that Aomine scowled before he opened his mouth to answer that, Kuroko instinctively felt that it was a good time to change the subject.

“So, when did you start playing, Midorima-kun?” he interjected hastily.

He didn’t miss the way that Midorima glanced towards the kitchen, where Akashi was, of all things, cooking. Baking? He didn’t know, and wasn’t sure that he wanted to know, either. For some reason the spectacle of Akashi in a teddy-bear-print apron had had no visible effect on Aomine, but Kuroko felt as though he had borne witness to a cursed image.

“Just last week. Akashi suggested we purchase it. He said that it would be a good medium for forging stronger connections with others.”

“Oh,” said Kuroko. “That’s...” he hesitated. Would it be rude to say ‘unusual’? He settled for a more neutral response. “That’s... neat.”

“Less talking, more shooting,” Aomine interrupted. “I’m gonna get gold elims this round, so get ready to eat shit!”

“In your dreams,” said Midorima, almost gleefully, and at this, Kuroko smiled. They were getting along, and even having fun together; cursed images or not, this was really all he had hoped for.

*

“HA!” Aomine crowed, pointing obnoxiously at the post-match screen, where the player ‘awesomine’ was enshrined with a GOLD MEDALS EARNED card. “Suck it, Midorima!”

“Oh, yes, very skillful,” said Midorima, unable to keep the scorn out of his voice. “Running into a bunch of heroes and pressing Q is so difficult, I don’t know how you managed it.”

“Ooh, so salty. Where is your god now, huh??”

“Oh, he’s in the kitchen,” said Midorima, at the same time that Akashi stuck his head out the kitchen door and asked, “You called?”

Kuroko choked on his drink.

“What?” said Aomine, blinking obliviously.

“Haha, what a good joke, Midorima-kun,” Kuroko said, once he’d located his voice from wherever it had fled in terror. “You’re so... er... funny.”

“I am?”

“Take a compliment gracefully, Shintarou,” said Akashi smoothly, emerging from the kitchen with oven mitts and holding a cookie tray. He smiled. The overall effect was unsettling. “Daiki, Tetsuya, would you like some cookies?”

“Wait, you just baked these? Sweet,” said Aomine, cheerfully grabbing one and stuffing it greedily into his open mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and then his eyes went wide. “Hey, these are great!”

“I know,” said Akashi, looking quite satisfied with himself. He turned to Kuroko. “Tetsuya, I must insist you try one.”

Kuroko opened his mouth, and then closed it again because he couldn’t think of anything he could possibly say. He accepted a cookie, making Akashi smile in that weird, untouchable way again before he disappeared back into the kitchen, taking the tray with him.

Once Akashi was gone, Aomine nudged him in the side, grinning.

“Video games and free cookies? Tetsu, you were right, we should come here all the time!”

Kuroko looked up at the ceiling, beseeching the heavens for sanity. All he wanted was for them to be sort-of friends off the court; he hadn’t come in here with the slightest intention of inducting Aomine into the cult of Akashi, and yet... 

What have I done? he asked himself in despair, as Aomine and Midorima entered another match.