#wingroad

It didn’t really hit him until around the start of middle school when puberty first started rearing its messy, hormone-addled head, but by then he’s become a master of putting his foot in his mouth thanks to all the macho bullshit he’s absorbed from god knows where.

So instead of trying to win her heart, he sets out to demonstrate that he is Too Manly For Feels and keeps trying to get her to pay attention to him by pulling dumb stunts like claiming he can see her panties, trying to show off to her in increasingly stupid ways (backflipping onto roofs? seriously???), and having absolutely no filter when it comes to sex things (in his case, the virtues of boobies).

Amazingly, Momoi has yet to swoon into his arms.

(In all seriousness she probably was starting to kinda sorta maybe like him back before he started being a dumb teenage boy, and he will eventually realize some ten years later that yes, he has indeed been cockblocking himself for most of his young life.)

2. Where is their ‘special spot’?

I’m honestly not sure I could top your tree house headcanon, @wingroad​, so I won’t try. XD

3. How do they cheer one another up?

In Aomine’s case? Very badly. XD He just sort of sits next to her and kinda tries to figure out what to do with himself. Awkwardly pats her back and mumbles about how she shouldn’t cry bc that makes her face look all weird and puffy and hey, um, do you need a tissue? *digs around pockets and only comes up with lint* should I beat someone up?

It just keeps going like this until Momoi either laughs at his ridiculous suggestions or just flops against his side for comfort, and then Aomine has a whole new problem because they don’t hold “How to Hug The Girl I Like” classes and um. shit.

In Momoi’s case, she usually tries to get him to talk it out because lord knows Aomine is not the most emotionally savvy person even on a good day, and he’s kind of eaten up a lot of macho bullshit like candy over the years, like how Real Men Don’t Cry and Real Men Don’t Talk about Their Feelings and Real Men Don’t Ask for Hugs Even Though a Hug Would Be Really Nice Right Now. Hell, half the time he can’t even untangle why he’s mad or upset or sad unless he has some help putting it in perspective.

So yeah, depending on what he needs, she’ll either kick his ass, get him to talk, Dai-chan, with actual words, or just come over and offer one of those hugs that Real Men Don’t Ask for Even Though They Would Be Really Nice.

4. What is their favourite movie to watch together?

Basketball matches on TV? XD

They may have grown up together, but their tastes in entertainment are pretty different. I mean, come on, Aomine’s favorite movie is Godzilla. (Doesn’t matter which one, all of them have giant lizards fighting and stuff exploding a LOT)

Momoi loves plot-heavy movies with lots of social drama and Western period movies (think Jane Austen) which Aomine falls asleep to because oh my god they are so talky, Satsu, wake me up when someone finally does something.

He makes a bit more of an effort to stay awake when he realizes that Momoi will simply go find other people to watch these movies with, and two of these people happen to be named Kise and Tetsu, and. *twitch* *twitch twitch*

5. When did they know that they are each other’s soul mate?

XD Oh hell no. Aomine will have to work for this girl. She deserves nothing less.

6. Where do they primarily kiss one another out in public? Examples forehead, cheek, hand etc.

For all of Aomine’s crude comments and boobie obsession, ask him to hold the hand of the girl he likes and watch as all 1.90 meters of him turn into a flustered, fidgety mess.

Just. Not an ounce of smoothness anywhere. He’s the guy who spends ten minutes performing “surreptitious” stretches meant to lead up to suavely putting an arm around her shoulders, only he ends up banging his elbow against the wall so hard that the resultant swearing gets them kicked out of the theater.

Seriously. Momoi is the one who initiates like 90 percent of the PDA, and then quietly delights in the utterly stunned wonderment lighting up his stupid face like he can’t believe she’s decided she wants to kiss him.

7. Who goes all out for the other person’s birthday?

Sometime after the birthday where Aomine tried to gift her a stag beetle in a jar (he caught it himself, and it’s the biggest most awesomest beetle ever, so why is stupid Satsu tearing up all of a sudden?!?!?), Momoi begged him not to try to give her any more gifts. And Aomine acts all offended but he’s quietly relieved because even he’s starting to realize he’s absolute shit at figuring out what to give other people as presents.

So instead Momoi’s birthday becomes the day where they do whatever she wants, from morning to evening. This mostly requires Aomine to stand around fidgeting in front of the changing stalls in a Cecil McBee (while the petite salesgirls by the cash register eye him like he’s some sort of pervert, urgh), or trying to fit into an absurdly tiny ornamental chair at a cake shop so ludicrously fancy it has a waiting list, and trying to grumble not so much that Satsu will believe he doesn’t want to spend time with her, but just enough so she can never know how many beats his heart is skipping whenever she smiles and waves one of the stupidly expensive cake pops in his face.

8. Whose clothes are too big for the other, but they wear them anyway?

Oh god, no. Momoi has grown up with this boy. She has seen his room. She has been around when his mom makes him clean his room and he’s stuck under the bed unearthing stray socks and boxers from three months ago, Dai-chan, you gross human being.

(Aomine absolutely does have dumb fantasies about her in his jersey though, which he keeps locked in a mental strongbox with three heavy chains around it and he’s still not sure she can’t somehow tell, because girls are weirdly psychic when it comes to pervy thoughts.

He doesn’t yet realize some of those dreams are only a dry-cleaning bill away.)

9. Who is the one who stays up late baking brownies and dancing in their underwear wearing a baggy shirt, and who is the one who comes down to see the other being all cute?

No. God no. And Momoi has seen entirely too much of Aomine just randomly walking around in his undies because he’s out of stuff to wear but too lazy to do laundry, and there is nothing cute about stopping by only to walk in on Aomine Daiki doing a general inventory on his junk.

10. Would they cuddle even though it is super hot outside?

This presupposes that they cuddle at normal temperatures.

“You do this every time he plays and you’re on the bench,“ she said with a mischievous grin in her voice. "Do you forget how he passes or…?”

Honestly, even Kagami wasn’t sure why this happened. His attention started on the game, on their opponents and their own plays. But soon enough, his eyes drifted to Kuroko, as they often did as of late. Then all of his attention was on pale, bony hands and how they wrapped around the orange of a basketball. His eyes never strayed from Kuroko, even when he didn’t have the ball. He took in every pass, every drive, and every shot Kuroko made, with all of the grace as if he were simply doing ballet along the court lines.

He’d said it a thousand times, but it really was just amazing.

“He’s good,” he said, shrugging in what he hoped was casual. “Sometimes I forget just how good.”

Riko hummed. “He is. He’s better with you on the court though.”

Kagami tried not to let that mean more than it was supposed to.

With Kuroko’s miracle passes and their impressive teamwork, Seirin won easily even without Kagami, the final score 82-65. The rest of the benched team ran onto the court, swarming their teammates with hugs and pats on the back. Kagami was quick to follow, but slowed until he stood in front of Kuroko. Kuroko was wiping the sweat off his forehead with his wristband, when he peeked up at Kagami with a smile.

“We won.”

“We did.” He cleared his throat. “You played good.”

Kuroko’s smile grew even wider as he offered his fist out to Kagami. It was probably the first time he’d ever hesitated in returning Kuroko’s fist bump, taking a moment to stare at that small hand instead. Sweat dripped along the back of Kuroko’s hands, his knuckles white under the stadium lights, and Kagami noticed a faint scar running along the side of his index finger.

Something in him stirred—something unfamiliar but not entirely unpleasant. He still didn’t understand why he was so fascinated with Kuroko’s hands (or Kuroko himself really), but a piece of him wanted nothing more than to reach out and twine their fingers together. He wanted to know how hard Kuroko could squeeze his knuckles together. He wanted to know a lot of things.

Blue hair shifted as Kuroko tilted his head at Kagami, his fist wavering. Kagami quickly made his own fist and knocked their knuckles together, stilling for a moment just to feel their skin brush. His answering grin was wild and reckless, but his teeth were all nervousness.

“C'mon, let’s go get some food.”

It wasn’t until he first held Kuroko’s hand that he really understood.

Kuroko was delicate almost, elegance personified and fragile in appearance only. As if he were meant to grace the earth with his subtle presence for only a few moments before disappearing without a trace of sound. But his hands, god his hands, were anything but.

Rough in all the right places from years of determination, slender but filled with strength unwilling to let go, and sturdy in a way that could hold Kagami up. Their hands fit exactly together, callouses matching like mirrored puzzles. Sure, Kagami’s hand was a bit larger than Kuroko’s, but Kuroko made up for that with how tight he held on.

Kagami liked it. That Kuroko couldn’t break so easily. That Kuroko was strong enough for the both of them. That Kuroko could keep him grounded with his grip alone.

Kuroko Tetsuya had strong hands, and Kagami maybe had a crush on them.

Kuroko Tetsuya had thin wrists.

Kagami scowled down at them as he stood in front of the couch, brows furrowed. He dropped to the floor and crossed his legs before tugging Kuroko’s hands gently out of his lap. The roll of elastic bandages he brought from the bathroom balanced on his knee.

It wasn’t like he’d never looked at Kuroko’s hands before, because he probably spent more time looking at them than he would ever admit. But as he turned Kuroko’s hands over, inspecting the slight swelling of his right wrist, it felt like he had never seen them before. He gingerly held Kuroko’s wrists, and was surprised to find his fingers wrapped all the way around them, middle finger touching thumb, with room to spare.

No wonder those passes hurt him like hell.

He grabbed up Kuroko’s sore wrist, and began unrolling the bandage around it. He’d quickly looked up a video online about how to properly wrap it and tried to be as gentle as he could, but his hands were still clumsy. If he was a little too rough, Kuroko didn’t say anything about it.

“I thought Coach told you to take it easy,” he said lowly.

“Last year, Coach told you to take it easy and you played against Aomine-kun.”

He paused in his wrapping and pointed accusingly. “That was different! I don’t have bird bones like you!”

Kuroko pouted. “I don’t have bird bones.”

Kagami loved Kuroko’s hands. Maybe that was a stupid thing to love about someone, their hands of all body parts, but he still did. He loved how slender and pale and slight they were. He loved how Kuroko used them to win games, to offer Kagami encouragement, to prove everyone who ever doubted him or his team wrong.

Then the other day at practice, Kuroko had passed the ball to Kagami, smacking it down the court like usual. And winced. His arm curled against his chest defensively before he shook out his hand. It was quick, something only Riko noticed because it was her job as coach, and Kagami noticed because it was his job as a professional Kuroko observer.

Coach immediately put him on light practice, told him to take the passes easy and rest so he could play in the next game. But surprisingly, as Kuroko often was with everything, he was too stubborn to listen to her. He was determined to win the Winter Cup this year too, even if it meant his body didn’t quite make it with him.

And it pissed Kagami off.

When he went back to wrapping, around Kuroko’s wrist and between the webbing of his thumb and index finger, he tugged a little too tight in his frustration.

“What if you’d seriously hurt yourself, huh?” he asked, scowling just at the idea of Kuroko hurt. “What if you had to be benched next game? What if I—we couldn’t play with you, Kuroko?”

Kuroko paused, in that way Kagami knew meant he was choosing his words carefully. His voice was calm, factual and cool.

“…I’m not that vital to the team, Kagami-kun. You would have managed just fine without me.” He glanced down at his hand and wiggled his fingers. “You have before.”

Kagami felt anger course red hot down his spine. It burned down to his stomach and left ash in its wake. He glared up into blue eyes.

“Shut up.”

There was a beat of silence, then Kuroko swallowed.

Another tug and Kagami finished wrapping Kuroko’s wrist, tucking the end inside the bandage on his palm. The quiet was only interrupted by Kagami’s frustrated huff as he frowned at Kuroko’s hand.

Before he could stop himself, he picked up Kuroko’s bandaged hand and held it lightly in his grip. Then he started rubbing around his wrist, fingers tender and circling while his thumb pressed to Kuroko’s pulse. Over his palms, down his fingers, then back to his wrist, Kagami massaged diligently.

“You are vital,” he said, breaking the quiet. “To the team.” He paused and dug his fingers in harder. “To me.”

He didn’t notice how Kuroko still hadn’t spoken. He didn’t notice the content look crossing Kuroko’s face. And he didn’t notice slender fingers fanning out when Kagami neared them. He just kept rubbing across knuckles, feeling the thin bones underneath.

“So don’t let me hear you say anything like that again. Idiot.”

Kuroko blinked owlishly at him. Then smiled. “You’re shockingly bad at pep talks, Kagami-kun.”

Kagami didn’t even bother to say anything, just kept massaging Kuroko’s wrists and hands while Kuroko closed his eyes and reclined his head on the back of the couch. Somewhere along the way, he finished with the sore hand and switched to the other, working his fingers into the tendons and bones, until Kuroko sighed happily.

It was only minutes later that he finally dropped Kuroko’s hands and sat there awkwardly.

“Don’t hurt yourself like this again, okay?” Heat spread across his cheeks as he scratched at the back of his head. “I…kinda need you.”

Kuroko was quiet for a long time. His voice was soft when he finally answered. But not as soft as the fingertips that grazed along Kagami’s jaw.

“I need you too.”

Kuroko Tetsuya had thin wrists, and Kagami was always worried about them.

Kuroko Tetsuya had unfair fingers.

Kagami watched them through hooded eyes as they traced over his cock, brows scrunched. Kuroko’s fingertip followed down a vein, blue eyes tracking the answering twitch of his flesh with interest. Kagami was close to wrapping his hand around Kuroko’s, to grasping himself with their joined hands and fucking up into Kuroko’s grip. But while Kuroko may have been a tease, Kagami knew he would make it worth it in the end.

It didn’t take Kagami long after they were together to learn Kuroko’s fingers were pure wickedness. All of his training, his dexterity, and his observation made him a force to be reckoned with in bed. Every twitch of muscle, every breathless moan, Kuroko noticed all of it. His hands could do things that only dirty poetry and legends spoke of.

The first time they tried this, with Kagami on his knees and Kuroko kissing down his thighs, it was like he’d done it a thousand times. Like he’d already made Kagami his home and knew him like a fingerprint. When his fingers searched inside, sending lewd sparks up his spine, Kagami nearly shot off the bed with the loudest mewl.

He came embarrassingly quick after that.

Kuroko’s middle finger circled the head of his cock, so light and feathery and teasing. Like it was there without being there, just long enough to send heat pooling from Kagami’s pelvis to his thighs. When Kagami was on the point of breaking, a keening noise slipped from his struggling throat. Kuroko lifted his finger, and a string of slick still connected them together.

Kagami didn’t recognize his voice. It was something stretched thin like cracking glass. “You’re so—you’re so fucking mean.”

The subtle smirk that twitched on Kuroko’s lips was enough of an answer.

Then Kuroko suddenly jerked him, just a few strokes to keep him on the edge and make Kagami groan out his name. His teasing fingers walked further down, past his cock, to cup Kagami’s balls in his palm. His fingertips fleshed them out, his nail dragging down the seam to the tune of Kagami’s whimpers. When he started to rub them gently, wetness dribbled from Kagami and a noise left him so loud, he was afraid the neighbors would hear.

“You’re very vocal tonight,” Kuroko said as if he were discussing the weather. His hands never stopped their work, dragging the back of his knuckles from Kagami’s balls, up his cock, to brush the head again. “Would you like more?”

“Tetsuya—Tetsuya, please.”

Only after Kagami’s panting turned to nonsense, his hands close to ripping the sheets, did Kuroko have mercy on him. The bottle of lube left neglected beside them was picked up and spread across Kuroko’s fingers. The brush against his opening was slight, merely tracing his hole in patient circles.

Kuroko briefly glanced up, and Kagami wondered what he saw for his pupils to dilate like they did.

“Are you ready?” Kuroko asked, voice pitches lower.

He wiggled impatiently. Took a breath.

“Been ready.”

From there, it was easy as sin. Kuroko pressed a finger inside him, worked him slow and deep. Until two fingers could fit, scissoring until Kagami pleasantly burned with the stretch. Then Kuroko’s fingers crooked with precision, searching with muscle memory, and Kagami was arching off the bed with a wide eyes and a choked whine.

“Tetsu—Tetsuya-ah!”

He was so close, so close, so close. His thighs shook with effort as he craned on the bed, his nails clawing at the sheets. He nearly begged, pleaded with every pretty word he knew. Except Kuroko knew, because he always did.

Kuroko’s free hand wrapped around his cock, tugged him in time with the in-out of his fingers. It only took a few strokes, a few prods in that spot Kuroko exploited like a professional. Kagami came hard, bucking off the bed as he spilled white over Kuroko’s knuckles, painting up his own stomach and chest.

Breath still barely in his lungs, Kuroko started to clean him up. Kuroko’s pink tongue lapped over his fingers carefully before catching all the ribbons in the dips of Kagami’s stomach. When he was done, he merely sat up and met Kagami’s eye, wicked tongue tracing his bottom lip.

Fuck, Kuroko was such a shameless bastard. And fuck, if it wasn’t hot as hell.

Kagami tossed his arm over his eyes and panted a laugh. “You’ll be the death of me one day.”

Kuroko hummed before crawling up the bed to lay beside him. “Will it at least be a good death?“

"The fucking best.”

Those same hands that could bring him to his knees with ease, now softly carded through his hair. Kuroko tugged until Kagami was resting on his chest, and his arms wrapped around Kuroko’s waist on instinct. As Kuroko idly played with the red strands, scratching at the back of his neck, he purred as an afterthought he never noticed.

“Did you know?” Kagami asked, voice thick with drowsiness already.

“Did I know what, Taiga-kun?”

“That every inch of you is perfect.”

He felt more than heard Kuroko’s laughing huff. There was a tug on his hair before Kuroko’s lips pressed against his forehead.

“Hardly. But every inch of you, Taiga-kun? That is true perfection.”

He thought he tried to glare accusingly into blue eyes. He thought he tried to argue he wasn’t perfect at all. He thought he tried to tell Kuroko that he’d prove every inch of his pale skin was flawless.

But instead all he tried was to kiss Kuroko and miss spectacularly, landing somewhere on his chin. Kuroko giggled and cupped his jaw, guiding him up to smiling lips, and then proceeded to take his time with him. And as he dozed off against Kuroko’s mouth, all he could think about was the fingers caught in his hair.

Kuroko Tetsuya had strong hands, thin wrists, and unfair fingers like no one else.