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“. . .Murasakibara-kun.”
It takes a good, long while for Murasakibara to register the sound of his own name being tentatively announced into the dark, silent air of his cramped bedroom.
“Murasakibara-kun.”
“Uhn?”
It’s Kuroko. That voice is coming from Kuroko, who’s curled up, laying on his side with his back against the wall on Murasakibara’s right.
“I don’t think our arrangement is working out as smoothly as intended.”
Murasakibara doesn't bother opening his eyes to glimpse a look at Kuroko’s face; he can already tell from the tone of his voice that the other man’s probably got his eyebrows scrunched together, expression troubled, lips pulled downwards into a polite little frown.
“Mhn? Why’s that?”
He also doesn't bother trying to clear his throat before lazily drawling out his words. His tongue feels too heavy to try and speak with any sort of clarity, and Murasakibara especially isn’t trying to put energy into wasted effort when he knows that Kuroko can always understand him just fine.
There’s rustling to the side of him. “Because,” Kuroko says, and Murasakibara can tell that he’s fidgeting, “I can’t sleep. I don’t think I’ll be able to with you lying right next to me like this.”
That gets Murasakibara to crack one eye open and shift his head to the side, just enough to take a peek at just how badly his brows are furrowed.
It’s not that bad, but Kuroko certainly doesn't look all that tired, despite how late it must be. Murasakibara isn’t super sure, but normally people get pretty drowsy when it’s time to go to sleep. Kuroko doesn't look drowsy at all; in fact, he looks alert– wide awake. His eyes have the sheen and shine of someone who’s completely and utterly conscious. That’s strange.
Murasakibara turns a little more to the right, not exerting any more energy than strictly necessary, and asks out into the empty space between them, “Why?”
There’s more rustling. Murasakibara notices Kuroko’s not even under the covers of Murasakibara’s comforter– he’s just laying there, his spine tense and rigid.
Not that Murasakibara is under the covers of his comforter either. He runs way too hot to sleep with any blankets on him anyways. Murasakibara’s eyes hone in on the sight of Kuroko shifting his legs nervously, his fidgeting rubbing them together slightly, and Murasakibara cranes his neck a little further to the side to drink in the sight.
“I’m afraid I don’t think I could tell you as to why that is,” Kuroko says,“because I’m not quite certain as to what the reason is myself.” Kuroko’s eyes are downcast to the mattress. He’s not looking at Murasakibara while he talks. “Do you think I could sleep outside on the couch instead?”
That gets Murasakibara to furrow his brows too. He and Kuroko match.
“Kuro-chin, you can’t,” He says, “No.2 peed on it earlier. That’s gross.”
It was true– Kuroko’s newly adopted puppy, affectionately dubbed by Momoi as No.2, had felt the need to relieve himself all over the only couch in their shared apartment only two hours prior. Akashi had nearly lost it, Midorima had nearly made himself sick, and Aomine had nearly ruptured an organ laughing at Kise who was laying down and had found his head in the splash radius of the 3 month old dog’s path of fury.
Something about Kise’s mop of hair finally finding a friend nearly as obnoxiously yellow as it, or something to that effect. Not that Murasakibara was really paying attention.
That’s not the important part, though. Kuroko’s face scrunches up a little further and he fidgets a little more before saying, “. . . Well, then maybe I could sleep on the floor.”
Murasakibara frowns at that. Why would Kuroko ever want to sleep on the floor? If the others found out Murasakibara let him do that, they would all have his head. He couldn’t let that happen.
A couple more beats of silence pass between the two of them before Murasakibara reaches a conclusion.
. . .If the problem here is Kuroko not being able to fall asleep, then all Murasakibara has to do is help him get there. That would fix things. It might be a little bit of a pain, but it was way better than Kuroko deciding he wasn’t gonna get any sleep at all and do something funny like get out of bed and try to sleep on the floor.
“Hm,” Murasakibara hums in a display of poorly feigned interest before turning his head back to stare up at the ceiling in contemplation.
Memories project themselves onto the inside of Murasakibara’s skull– he remembers being younger. Littler. A touch crankier too, seeing as how whenever his family found themselves unable to appease his insatiable appetite, it would take near hours to sooth Murasakibara and his tantrums before he was ready to function normally again. The ones comforting him were always his older brothers, when he was still small enough to be cradled to their chests and their hands were still big and warm enough to pat his back until he had exhausted himself with his wailing.
Currently, Murasakibara is sprawled out with his back to the mattress. It’s not like his bed is small or anything. There’s a good foot-and-a-half’s distance between him and Kuroko. It wouldn’t be that hard to do. But should he. . .?
It’s only after Murasakibara hears even more slight rustling coming from his side does he make a decision. Yeah, he probably should.
Even with the two of them not crammed together like a pack of sardines it’s almost laughably easy to fist his hand in the back of Kuroko’s T-shirt and haul him up by the fabric with one arm. Kuroko goes up with a yelp, his eyes widening till Murasakibara can see the entire ring of his iris unobstructed, and through his shock Kuroko gets no time to argue or protest before Murasakibara unceremoniously drops Kuroko onto his chest.
He’s light. It feels like Murasakibara’s dropped a grocery bag full of potato chips onto his torso, not an entire grown man. But Murasakibara knows that if he points that out, Kuroko’s only going to get mad at him, so he refrains from commenting.
The other man is frozen on top of him. He must be confused. Murasakibara rumbles out, “Kuro-chin, you can’t sleep, right? I’ll help you.”
The two of them are pressed into one long, continuous line from chest to thigh. Kuroko’s light, but he’s also a little cold. Murasakibara figures that won't be a problem, and that he’ll be able to generate enough warmth for the both of them.
They’re so close Murasakibara can feel Kuroko’s jaw working, muscles shifting up against his chest as he opens his mouth to protest. Kuroko’s entire body is completely rigid and he looks frantic– he’s starting to push himself off of Murasakibara and, well, that’s no good.
“Murasakibara-ku–!”
Murasakibara feels Kuroko shudder from head to toe– watches his shoulders quiver when he slides his hands up Kuroko’s shirt and across his shoulder blades, skin smooth and cool to the touch. There are ghostings of goosebumps over Kuroko’s forearms where they’re curled over Murasakibara, and even though these motions are supposed to be soothing, Murasakibara only feels Kuroko tense up tighter.
“Shhh,” He shushes, “Kuro-chin, you’re supposed to relax.” Murasakibara applies gentle pressure to the tips of his fingers and rubs at the muscle bracketing in Kuroko’s spine with one hand.
Kuroko doesn’t respond to him– he only shivers again, ducking his head down so Murasakibara can’t see his face through the fringe of his bangs. Murasakibara figures that must be a good sign, so he brings his other hand up to trace over the point where Kuroko’s scapula is joined to his back, being careful to keep the force in his hands firm but not painful.
There’s pressure on his torso– Kuroko’s body sags against his own as he squirms forwards, head ducking down even further; enough for Kuroko’s cheek to mash itself into Murasakibara’s chest. His hands chase Kuroko down and continue to knead; one still outlining his shoulder blades, the other dipping lower to massage down the length of his spine.
Murasakibara hums again to himself, letting his eyes flutter shut on their own as he continues to work at Kuroko’s back. Man, he’s so nice. Kuroko better thank him later.
. . .Kuroko’s so tiny. Murasakibara’s hands are covering a lot of surface area – this is great. They’ll be asleep in no time.
. . .
. . .
Or, at least, that was what Murasakibara thought would happen. Sure, it hasn’t been that long since he started, but by now Kuroko should be at least a little bit relaxed, right? It’s not as bad as it was before, but Kuroko’s muscles keep clenching, then unclenching, like he’s torn between letting himself finally unwind and– something else entirely.
Murasakibara only suspects something is wrong after he cracks his eyes open for the second time to look down at Kuroko.
His fists are clenched. Murasakibara’s not sure when he shifted– he didn’t notice, but while Kuroko’s torso is still pressed firmly up against Murasakibara’s own, his knees are resting against the mattress, preventing the lower half of Kuroko’s body from making any sort of physical contact with him.
That’s a little strange.
Murasakibara hooks his hands under Kuroko’s arms and pulls him forwards, and when Kuroko lets out a wet little gasp, Murasakibara’s brain bluescreens.
‘Ah,’ Thinks Murasakibara, ‘He’s hard. That explains it,’ then feels himself grow lightheaded with the force of all the blood in his body suddenly rushing south.
The sensation of Kuroko’s obviously stiff arousal pushing up against Murasakibara’s abdomen is enough to snap him out of drowsiness and to attention, giddy glee all at once firing simultaneously across every synapse in his brain. Just to make sure he’s not hallucinating, Murasakibara snakes hand out from under Kuroko’s shirt in order to tilt his chin upwards, to check for Kuroko’s telltale signs of complete and utter apathy– but lo and behold, the other man’s eyes are cloudy, glossy with something Murasakibara isn’t eloquent enough to name.
Kuroko’s cheeks are flushed. When he makes eye contact with Murasakibara, his expression twists and curls into itself– lips parted and eyes blown wide. He looks absolutely mortified. Murasakibara feels his shorts tighten and suddenly he regrets having decided to wear boxers to sleep tonight.
“M-Murasakib-” Kuroko’s frantic, embarrassed protest is abruptly cut off when Murasakibara reaches behind him to grab at Kuroko’s hips and shove downwards, bucking his own forwards to grind their clothed erections together. The little high pitched oh the motion pushes out of Kuroko’s mouth makes Murasakibara want to find out what the sound tastes like.
A nearly maniac grin spreads itself over Murasakibara’s face and he purrs out, breath stuttering, “Kuro-chin, you should’ve– Ah,” He pushes harder this time, hips thrusting out again– “You should’ve told me this was getting you off.”
The next time Murasakibara juts his pelvis forwards is especially delicious; Kuroko’s crotch is hot against him, even through their clothes, and the friction draws out another gasp past Kuroko’s lips.
“W-why–” Kuroko grits out, fighting through his arousal, “Would I ever do that?!”
Because. . .?
Oh. Actually, that was a pretty good point.
Murasakibara draws his hands back to his sides to sit up a little straighter. His mind flashes back to memories of Akashi (Ironically enough) teaching him about the concept of consent back in high school. “Should I stop?”
For some reason, that seems to startle Kuroko– he freezes, their bodies still pressed together, and then falls silent.
. . .
“Kuro-chin?”
There’s muttering. “. . .”
Murasakibara furrows his brows. “Kuro-chin, I can’t hear you.”
Kuroko sighs. “I said,” He forces out, fidgeting with the sleeve of Murasakibara’s t-shirt, “We might as well keep going. If we back out of this now I don't think I’ll be able to look you in the eye ever again.”
Now that won’t do. The idea of Kuroko never looking at Murasakibara again is upsetting enough for him to decide that his next course of action should be to grab at the elastic waistband of Kuroko’s shorts– underwear and all, and yank, so he does. Kuroko nearly chokes on his own spit as his cock bobs out free, weeping at the tip.
Kuroko flushes all the way down to his neck. “M-Murasakibara-kun,” He hisses out, “What are you doing?!”
Murasakibara means to let out an ‘Eh?’ at the nonsensical question in his signature tone of vague uninterest, but the inherent eroticism of this entire situation has Murasakibara transfixed at the sight of whatever’s between Kuroko’s legs. He forgets to respond.
It’s cute. He’s never seen the other man's genitals before, but Kuroko’s dick is cute. Murasakibara catalogs that little tidbit of information into his brain before the sight of Kuroko glaring daggers at him snaps him out of his trance.
“Don’t you have to be naked to have sex?”
“Well yes, typically, not always,” Kuroko protests, “But that’s not the point. I would have appreciated a warning first.”
Murasakibara nods. “Okay, got it. I’m gonna warn you now.”
__________
. . .Warn him? About what?
“What?” The words barely even get the chance to leave Kuroko’s mouth before Murasakibara’s reaching to the left to grab something out of his nightstand, flicking the drawer open with one hand and Kuroko thinks, a little crazed, ‘Oh, he’s taking out lube.’ The bottle Murasakibara pulls out of the compartment isn’t large by any means, but it’s half empty. Half empty.
Murasakibara notices Kuroko staring at the nondescript, half empty bottle, and curls a brow at him. “Kuro-chin, I’m a healthy red-blooded male. This isn’t that strange.”
“. . .Right.” Not knowing what to do with the knowledge that Murasakibara masturbates, Kuroko is helpless to do little more than watch as Murasakibara clicks the bottle open and squeezes a generous amount of lube out onto his palms, rubbing them together.
He watches Murasakibara slick his hands up, watches him as his limb slides downwards in between Kuroko’s legs, but the sensation of a warm fist gliding over his dick is somehow shocking. What’s also surprising is the intensity of the pleasure that the act solicits out of him– before Kuroko can think to squash it down, an honest to god moan punches out from his chest. Kuroko didn’t think he was capable of making those kinds of noises. All Murasakibara is doing is jerking him off- everyone does that. Why does it feel so good?
Murasakibara’s hands are large. It takes little to no effort on the other man’s part to flick his wrist and cover Kuroko’s entire length from base to tip. There’s another embarrassing noise wedged in Kuroko’s throat, and this time he has the sense to swallow it as Murasakibara settles into a steady pace– not aggressive, but not gentle either.
“Ah,” There’s another one, little sighs falling out of his mouth like drops of rain, and then, Kuroko’s tensing up as– “W-Wait, Murasakibara-kun,”
Warm fingers prod at his entrance– gentle, not intrusive, but making their presence known. Kuroko didn’t anticipate Murasakibara wanting to do anything to him down there, didn’t expect him to be so eager about this in the first place, but the idea of Murasakibara’s anything poking around in his insides sends another spike of arousal down Kuroko’s spine and into his gut. His head is spinning.
Murasakibara pulls him closer, and Kuroko’s head bumps up against his chin. Looking up at the curve of Murasakibara’s throat makes him buck his hips up and into Murasakibara’s waiting palm involuntarily. It’s so hot in here.
“Kuro-chin,” He breathes out, voice raspy, “Relax.”
Kuroko feels like he’s about to boil out of his skin, but by god he tries his hardest. Murasakibara slips a finger in, still tacky with lube, and the stretch feels good. The sensation is foreign enough to be vaguely uncomfortable, but it’s only a finger, so Kuroko doesn't feel any pain at all.
Murasakibara doesn't look satisfied, however– his eyes are narrowed, and his lips are pulled into a wide frown. He grabs the lube bottle from off of his nightstand (Unfortunately unhanding Kuroko in the process) and squirts some more down the crack of his ass. His backside feels wet.
“. . .Murasakibara-kun, I think that’s enough.”
Murasakibara’s frown deepens. “Kuro-chin, doesn't that feel weird?”
The only weird sensation Kuroko is feeling right about now is that of cold lube sliding down his thighs, but he refrains from commenting. “I’m alright Murasakibara-kun, but thank you for your concern.”
There’s no answer from the taller man– the frown on his face persists, but the digit wedged itself inside of Kuroko continues its ministrations. Without a hand wrapped around him, the feeling is a little less intense, but still present. Something is building up in Kuroko’s stomach.
Murasakibara, after a while of Kuroko’s labored breathing, decides enough time has passed, and slips in another finger. The stretch is a little wider, he’s reaching a little deeper, and–
Kuroko gasps as sparks fly behind his eyes and he suddenly rocks backwards. Murasakibara’s fingers curled over something, and Kuroko’s not sure what that something might have been, but there’s another terribly embarrassing noise flying out of him and this time Kuroko just can't help himself, he lets it past.
Murasakibara mutters “Found it,” and slides in a third. Kuroko’s brain doesn't even register what should’ve been the sting of his hole stretching out on three of Murasakibara’s freakishly long fingers–there’s too much noise in his head.
“Ah,” Kuroko moans out again, “ah,” and now he’s rocking his hips back in earnest– and Murasakibara is frozen, like Kuroko’s sudden enthusiasm has taken him by surprise.
Kuroko’s enthusiasm is taking him by surprise too. His back arches involuntarily as he claws at the collar of Murasakibara’s shirt and hiccups into his chest, waves of heat pulsating out from inside his core with every little twitch. Murasakibara starts moving again, spreading the digits out like he’s trying to work him loose, and Kuroko thinks he’s going to lose it.
The two of them spend a while longer just like that, Murasakibara fucking him through with his fingers, before Kuroko hears the other man click his tongue and shift his weight around on the mattress, the hand inside of him stalling.
“Sorry Kuro-chin,” Murasakibara rasps out, voice wet, and uses his free hand to untuck himself from the confines of his shorts. The head of Murasakibara’s cock taps against Kuroko’s abdomen and he startles.
Murasakibara’s genitals seem to be proportional to the size of the rest of his limbs. Kuroko really isn’t too surprised about that one– he had felt the other man up earlier when Murasakibara all but dry humped him and figured that he was more than well endowed. What does surprise Kuroko is the fact that Murasakibara had been able to endure the discomfort of his underwear straining against his clothed erection for so long.
Considering the fact that the only thing prior to tonight that Kuroko’s ever taken up the ass before was his own thin, curiously inexperienced fingers, the sight of Murasakibara’s dick should probably be ringing off some alarm bells in his head– or at least be a little bit intimidating, but the only thing Kuroko feels in this very moment is excitement and a little bit like he’s on the verge of an orgasm already. Kuroko licks his lips, and manages to crane his head up to look Murasakibara in the face.
“Murasakibara-kun, do you have a condom?”
Murasakibara’s pupils are dilated and his complexion is more than a little flushed, which for some reason is extremely satisfying. He responds honestly with “No,” and then, “But I’ve never had sex before. Do we still need one?”
“. . .It would be preferable,” Kuroko says, but his voice is hollow to his own ears– “But I think we should be fine.”
The fact that the two of them aren’t using protection aside– Kuroko’s latched himself onto Murasakibara’s words; never had, this is both of their first times and they’re sharing them with each other. Kuroko’s not sure how he feels about that, but his chest is heaving a little harder, and the blood in his ears is rushing by a little faster, so that must be indicative of. . . something.
Kuroko takes hold of Murasakibara’s length and this time it’s the other man’s turn to be surprised- Murasakibara’s fingers slide out of him and his eyes widen the smallest fraction. Murasakibara doesn't say anything, but Kuroko likes the way his breath hitches.
“You’re going to have to be patient with me,” Kuroko says, angling himself, positioning Murasakibara at his entrance, “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything. . . like this even anywhere remotely close to my body,” He admits, making eye contact with Murasakibara, “Can you do that?”
Murasakibara is tracking his every twitch. “Okay,” He nods, not breaking Kuroko’s gaze, “I can do that.”
And so, he’s off– Kuroko starts by lowering himself slowly onto Murasakibara, and gets around an inch and a half in before he has to pause to gather his bearings. Kuroko exhales slowly, breathing air out of his lungs, and Murasakibara’s eyes are still on him– “Kuro-chin, don’t hurt yourself,” He says, gasping out, voice pinched and shaky.
“I’m alright,” He responds, “J-Just give me a second, please.”
The stretch is no joke. Kuroko thought he was more than prepared, considering Murasakibara had been rifling through his insides not even thirty seconds prior, but it turns out he was wrong.
Murasakibara narrows his eyes at Kuroko wordlessly, takes hold of him by the hips, and pulls Kuroko off. With the click of a plastic bottlecap, Murasakibara slathers another generous helping of lube all over himself, then looks up at Kuroko for approval.
. . .How considerate. Kuroko smiles down at him, feeling all of a sudden very fond and says, “Thank you Murasakibara-kun.”
Kuroko doesn't get any sort of response to that, but that’s about what he expected. Angling himself over Murasakibara’s length a second time, he tries again– slow and very careful.
The extra lube makes the slide downwards a good deal easier, and this time Kuroko gets a little further. Sure, there’s still a slight burn but. . . He also feels incredibly full. It’s good. There’s another gasp slipping out of him and Kuroko can feel the head of Murasakibara’s cock almost tantalizingly close to his prostate.
When Kuroko looks down Murasakibara’s fisting at the bedsheets, lips pressed into a thin line– his eyebrows are furrowed together tightly but he’s still looking up at Kuroko with blown out pupils and a lidded gaze. The sight makes his dick jump and he slides down further.
“Oh-” And there it is. Another full inch of Murasakibara slides over his insides and there’s no escape– Kuroko chokes out another moan and every little twitch of his body is sending waves straight through him. Kuroko leans forwards, trying his hardest not to sink any further, and stays like that for a while.
“K-Kuro-chin,” Murasakibara stutters out, “Not so tight,” And when Kuroko looks at him, ready to breathe out another apology, Murasakibara’s got both of his eyes screwed shut, head sharply turned to the side, so he’s mouthing his words into his pillows. It’s cute. Murasakibara looks so cute like that. It makes Kuroko want to be a little mean to him, so he steels himself and finds the strength to ease down even further.
. . . He feels so full. Kuroko’s not even halfway down yet he’s already having trouble breathing. The drag is terrifyingly delicious , and it feels good to be stretched this wide open, and with every millimeter he sinks the sensation travels up his spine and straight to his brain– it’s a nonstop assault of stimulation and Kuroko can tell right now that he’s not going to last very long. Murasakibara’s fingers were enough to push him over the edge on their own, and even before that, the impromptu massage Kuroko found himself on the receiving end of had already gotten him plenty riled up.
And so, Kuroko makes his concerns known. “M-Murasakibara-kun,” Oh, even just speaking is difficult– “I’m- I’m not,” Kuroko swallows, throat bobbing, “Going to last very long,”
Murasakibara isn’t fairing any better and chooses to not respond at all to Kuroko in favor of trying to maintain his self control. He’s been doing a fantastic job so far, actually– the other man hasn’t moved an inch. No bucking hips, no forcing Kuroko down further; Murasakibara hasn’t even touched him since earlier.
It seems impossible, but eventually, and slowly, Kuroko lets himself down further, and further, and further, until he’s completely bottomed out and can feel the soft meat of his thighs press up against Murasakibara’s sides. He’s leaking precome all over Murasakibara’s clothed abdomen and– Ah, they had never taken all of their clothes off. That’s going to need to be washed.
At this point, Kuroko’s been trying to hold off on finishing all over himself for a good long while, so it’s no surprise to feel his orgasm creep up on him as soon as he hits the bottom. It builds, and builds, and Kuroko’s almost scared of whatever sensation is coming next before his vision whites out and he’s folding forwards; Kuroko doesn't even recognize the sound of his own high-pitched voice crying out and bouncing off of the walls as he rocks himself on Murasakibara through the feeling, clenching, spasming, long white ribbons of fluid painting the empty canvas in front of him white.
If he had any more energy, Kuroko would probably be pretty embarrassed that he only managed to last what was probably five minutes at max, but considering the context of the scenario, he’s actually rather proud of himself. Using the absolute last of his internal reserves, Kuroko pulls himself off of Murasakibara, who is still rock hard, and flops forwards onto his chest, completely spent.
“Sorry Murasakibara-kun, but,” He sighs, eyes fluttering shut,“That’s all I have in me. You’ll have to make due with this.”
Murasakibara seems to be frozen. He doesn't respond to Kuroko, doesn't even move a muscle until after a good long while. “. . .Kuro-chin, can I flip you over?”
Kuroko, who is nearly half-asleep at this point, only nods. He feels Murasakibara very gently manhandle him until their positions are swapped– Kuroko’s lying on his back with Murasakibara between his legs. He has no clue what Murasakibara is doing, taking careful hold of his knees and lifting them upwards, but then Murasakibara slides himself inbetween Kuroko’s thighs and by then he’s got a pretty good clue.
“Is this okay?” He asks.
Kuroko nods once. “Mn.”
And then Murasakibara’s moving his hips, gradually at first, but once he sees that Kuroko’s perfectly fine with the movement, he goes a little faster.
Murasakibara’s girthy enough that Kuroko doesn't have to squeeze his legs together at all for the other man to get enough friction going, so he lays there pliantly, eyes closed, listening to the sick squelch emanating from his thighs with each thrust, Murasakibara’s heavy breathing loud in his ears.
Kuroko’s not sure how long he spends there like that, but eventually, he’s cracking his eyes open, and Murasakibara’s looking down at him. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes don't leave Kuroko’s face, even as his hips snap back and forth, pace now frantic. Kuroko gives him a little smile, and feels it crinkle the corners of his eyes.
“Ngh,” Murasakibara’s face crumples, and his movements stutter– Kuroko looks down, and now it’s his turn to have the base of his shirt covered in come as Murasakibara finishes, panting. He slides out from between Kuroko’s legs and sets them down, eyes not leaving Kuroko’s face the entire time.
He’s too tired to protest when after a good, long while, Murasakibara leans forwards, slowly, sweetly– and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Kuroko falls into a fitless, dreamless sleep.
_______________________
The next morning, Midorima won’t look either of them in the eyes.
“. . .Yo, Tetsu,” Aomine says from over his bowl of rice, “You’re wearing different shorts. You didn’t go to bed with those on last night.”
“Aomine-kun, I’m afraid I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Aomine pauses for a second, looks up at Murasakibara, who hasn’t left Kuroko’s side since the both of them woke up, and then flashes him a thumbs up.
That makes Kuroko mad, so he walks over to Aomine and smacks him upside the head.
. . .There’s padding. Footsteps. Kise is making his way down the stairs. This can mean nothing good. Aomine nurses the blooming bruise on his chin, grins up to the stairs with an evil glint in his eyes and yells out, “Kise, you’ll never believe what just happened!”
“Huh? Aominecchi, what are you talking about?”
Kise enters, takes one look at Aomine, then Kuroko, then Murasakibara. All of the color drains from his face. Tears pool at the corner of Kise’s eyes as he stands there for one moment, two, then launches himself down the stairs.
“MURASAKIBARACCHI, THAT’S NO FAIR!!!!”
. . .The house remains noisy for a long while after that.