Title: Time to Say Okay
Fandom: Kuroko no Basket (The Basketball Which Kuroko Plays)
Disclaimer: Fujimaki owns. I only play. You do not sue.
Summary: In which Kasamatsu Yukio's crush on Kise Ryouta reached a conclusion that Yukio never expected.
Note: Written for Short Precarious Anecdote Month.
Kasamatsu Yukio's crush on Kise Ryouta was like a mole that suddenly appeared on your body. You didn't know where it came from and were never sure if you should be concerned enough to see a doctor, but you were stuck with it whether you liked it or not, even if it was in a weird place, like your left butt cheek or the tip of your nose.
Honestly, he didn't see how it was possible not to have a crush on Kise: he was perfect. The way he looked, the way he smiled, the way he chased a basketball around the court, the way his hair shone with a faint halo of golden flyaways even on cloudy days.
After meeting Kise, Yukio's only regret in life was that he was born two years later than Kise. Because of that unfortunate twist of fate, they'd only had a year together at Kaijou, and not even that -- with university entrance exams on his mind, Yukio had mostly phoned it in at the basketball club after their crushing loss to Touou during the Interhigh championships. He'd led the team through the Winter Cup tournament and said all the right things at all the right times and got his head in the game when he needed to, but the future had stretched out limitless ahead of him. He'd had to look towards it.
He'd got into a decent private college out West, graduated from high school, moved into dormitory with three other guys, one of whom he would go on to date briefly and very secretly in his third year.
He and Kise had kept in touch -- birthday greetings, the occasional mail updating each other on what was going on in their lives, stuff like that. They had even met up a couple of times when Yukio visited Kanagawa during semester breaks, and each time Kise felt farther away than the last.
The absence of Kise in his daily life weighed on Yukio more than he cared to admit, but it was not until the middle of his second year in college -- when he finally made up his mind not to continue with professional basketball -- that he finally realised that what he felt for Kise was more than a crush.
Crushes faded. Yukio's feelings for Kise only intensified. He had every magazine and photobook that contained even the tiniest mention of Kise; they lived in a box on the floor of his dormitory and he was always terrified that one of his roommates would open it, yet never quite got around to moving it out of sight.
Deciding not to pursue basketball had to do with the money -- everything always came down to that. Pro basketball in Japan didn't pay, and Yukio was nowhere near the specs that any foreign team would want. He wasn't especially disappointed by any of this: from his mother, Yukio had inherited both his good looks and his pragmatism.
He had entertained vague hopes of playing alongside Kise again at some point in the future -- if not in college, then at the professional level. It wasn't that he intended to put the moves on Kise or anything; Kise was obviously heterosexual, and Yukio knew what happened to gays who pursued relationships with heterosexuals: nothing good, not in the long term.
Still, he didn't want a life without Kise in it. He didn't feel like he needed Kise to feel whole or any boring romance novel crap like that. Nobody needed their moles to survive, but if you cut one off it would bleed for a long time, and the skin where it had been would never quite heal. Plus, Kise had told him that he wasn't going to play professional basketball.
The only member of the Generation of Miracles still pursuing the pro goal had been Touou's Aomine, but that monster would be snatched up by an American team as soon as he so much as thought out loud about maybe leaving Japan for a bit.
Disillusionment happened a lot to high school basketball players. The sport wasn't a big deal in Japan, and most people realised it as soon as they reached the college level. Club funding at all but the strongest schools was dismal, facilities were usually outdated and in need of repair, uniforms had to be bought with private funds, and when you finally reached the pros, salaries were barely on par with entry-level secretarial work. It was a career only for those who truly loved basketball.
Yukio didn't. He enjoyed basketball, but he didn't love it, the same way as he enjoyed the time he spent with his handful of boyfriends over the years, but none of them stirred his soul. Not the way Kise did. And if Kise wasn't considering basketball, then neither was Yukio.
In high school, Yukio thought he'd had no special skill -- and he hadn't, not in technique. His special skill was his leadership ability. He understood people, he knew what they wanted and how to give it to them, he knew how to avoid conflict, he was good at reading the atmosphere and deciding where to steer a conversation. He was a natural-born leader fully aware of both his potential and his limitations. He could succeed anywhere.
And so as Kise prepared to graduate from high school and then pursue a full-time modelling career, Kasamatsu Yukio set his sights on entertainment production.
"Please take good care of me," Kise said, his expression way too solemn to be sincere.
Yukio looked at him with a small grin on his face that probably looked super goofy, but he didn't care. Two years in the trenches of Kawahira Productions had netted him the payoff he'd aimed for: the position of Kise Ryouta's assistant manager. Effectively the manager, since Toudou-san was struggling with a bout of ill health and was on long-term sick leave from the corporation.
"I understand the two of you went to the same middle school," President Kawahira said as his secretary collected their tea cups, signalling that the audience was rolling to a close.
"High school," Kise said, hoisting his leg up and resting his foot on his knee as he collapsed against the off-white leather sofa cushions.
As one of Kawahira Pro's biggest money-makers, Kise could get away with that and more in the President's office. Yukio remained prim and stiff as befitted a small fry, but the Vice President's office was right next door, and in another five years, Yukio intended to occupy it.
"We played basketball together," Kise continued. "Speaking of which, how's that going for your grandson, Prez? If he wants any more shooting lessons, just let me know."
President Kawahira chuckled. "I've seen Kasamatsu-kun's plans for you, Kise-kun, and I don't think you'll have that kind of time, but I'm grateful for your thoughtful offer." He rose to his feet and started for the door.
"So you've got plans for me, huh, Kasamatsu?" Kise purred, also rising. "I've heard you were a real go-getter, but shouldn't we get the measure of each other first?"
"I've had your number since you were a pimply brat," Yukio said, following their lead.
Kise laughed. "You kept kicking and scolding me, you mean. I guess you're going to continue doing that from now on, aren't you?"
"Kise-kun could stand a good kicking every now and again," President Kawahira put in.
"I've sworn off physical violence, but I'll do my best to encourage him, President," Yukio said, bowing.
"Ever the senpai," Kise quipped as they exited the office and made for the private elevator.
"Well, I will always be older than you so I guess that's a given," Yukio said, letting him go first into the elevator's mirrored interior.
Yukio's first task as Kise's stand-in manager was to drive him home. They stopped at a Maruetsu for groceries, which Yukio agreed to help Kise carry home.
"You can park in spot 47," Kise said, pointing as they pulled into the small building lot. "I don't have a car, so my parking space is lonely."
"You could rent it out -- neighbourhood like this, you could pull an extra ¥35-37 grand a month," Yukio commented, killing the engine.
"Mm, but then my guests will have nowhere to park," Kise said as they circled to the back of the car. "It's not like I need the money."
"Do you have a lot of guests?" Yukio asked, his mood dampened somewhat by the thought that Kise's guests must have been gorgeous, female, and welcome in his bed. He opened the trunk and began to lift out grocery bags.
"You're the first one, actually," Kise said, grabbing three bags to each hand at once. "But you know, it's the principle of the thing."
"You don't even have a girlfriend? Shame on you," Yukio said, his tone extra playful to mask his dread.
"I've really missed you, Kasamatsu," Kise said, laughing. "But that you of all people would make fun of me for not having a girlfriend, that's a little, well."
You of all people? "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Yukio manoeuvred the trunk lid down with his elbow.
"I mean you don't have a girlfriend, either."
Yukio raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I'm not the only one who did my homework, huh?"
Kise radiated innocence. "People talk about these things around the office, senpai."
"If you're spending that much time around the office, you must not have enough work," Yukio said. "Which floor are you on?"
"Fourth, but there's no elevator. Race you upstairs; loser has to put away the groceries."
Yukio was halfway up the third flight when he heard Kise's triumphant whoop of delight. He shook his head, smiling to himself. He was not in the best shape of his life and he knew it -- corporate ladder-climbing wasn't a real sport after all. Besides, if he was going to be invited into Kise's home, he wanted to stay as long as he could without it seeming weird, so he had only run until Kise was out of sight.
Kise by his side, chattering like eight years hadn't passed since their Kaijou days -- it was better than winning the lottery. He loved Kise; he already understood that he would always love him even if he could never speak of it. Just being with him was enough. Which was kind of pathetic for a guy on the wrong side of twenty-five, but Yukio would always set his own pace.
He put the shopping away under Kise's guidance sneaking glimpses at the decor -- bright colours and large open spaces, no knick-knacks on shelves or tables. No chrome, either -- Kise's kitchen was simple 70s style PVC, like Kasamatsu's grandma's place in Nara. Stickers and magnets all over the gleaming white refrigerator -- cute animals, mostly. Well-used cookware in the cupboard above the stove.
"You cook?" Yukio asked.
"What?" Kise asked, turning from the full-length window at the far end of the dining area. "Oh. Yeah, I kind of dabble. Kagamicchi used to come over and teach me sometimes, but he's gone back to the States now."
Kise shook his head. "Marriage. They couldn't get married here so they went to LA and then decided to stay."
"Why couldn't they-- oh. He's gay?" Kagami? Never would have guessed. Who's the lucky guy?
"You're pretty sharp, aren't you? Yeah, he stole my Kurokocchi."
"I didn't know you had such feelings for Kuroko," Yukio said, beginning to feel ill at ease. This reminded him all too well of the teasing from those who knew he was gay. For some reason, socially liberal heteros thought it was hilarious to pretend to have homosexual leanings in front of their little gay friend.
"It's not that! It was just, Kurokocchi was my rival. But ever since Kagamicchi showed up, Kurokocchi became even meaner to me than usual and hardly ever wanted to play basketball with me," Kise said.
"You sound like a grade-schooler," Yukio said, patting Kise's shoulder perfunctorily as he moved past him towards the door. Kise never did know how to handle people who showed him indifference; Yukio supposed that was his only weak point. "Anyway, I'm done putting your stuff away so I'm going to take my leave."
"Stay for dinner?" Kise asked. "We've barely talked."
"We'll be working together from now on," Yukio said, slipping feet into shoes. "You'll be sick of talking to me soon enough."
As he straightened from adjusting the back of his left shoe, intending to turn and say good-bye properly, he collided with Kise, who had come up all the way to the edge of the hallway above the shoe enclosure. He almost lost his balance and threw a hand out, catching a fistful of Kise's shirt. Kise stumbled forward but caught himself by throwing his palm out at the wall to his right.
They stayed like that for a few moments -- to an onlooker, it might have looked like a fight about to start: Yukio's hand in Kise's shirt, their faces so close Yukio could smell the sour candies on Kise's breath; the same ones he'd always smelled of back at Kaijou.
He was so beautiful that Yukio almost choked. Golden hair, golden eyes, shining halo of flyaways in the late afternoon sun from the living room window behind him. Perfect face, smooth skin, the faintest scent of woodsy aftershave. Yukio's heart was breaking into pieces at the thought that he could never, ever reach those lips. I'd underestimated just how badly I've fallen for him.
"Kise, I--" He stopped, let go of Kise's shirt, and stepped back. No. Don't ruin everything.
"I know," Kise said with a vaguely guilty look. "I've known since forever, since trying to explain to you what girls liked that one time, remember?"
Yukio didn't, but he nodded anyway. He had thought he'd been so good at keeping his emotions under control, but he had forgotten that Kise noticed everything. No, it wasn't that he'd forgotten. He had just chosen not to think about it. "I understand if you'd like the company to choose another manager," he said. "I'll take responsibility, so--"
"No," Kise said, stepping down and taking another step closer. "I don't want another manager. When I heard you were going to be my new manager, I was really happy."
"But you said--"
"I said I've known how you felt back then since forever. I didn't know you still felt that way until just now. Me too. I mean, I didn't at first, but-- augh, can't I just kiss you? I really want to."
"W-why? You like women, don't you?"
"So what?" Kise lifted Yukio's chin with a gentle hand. "Can't I like both?"
Yukio stared into Kise's eyes that questioned, questioned until he nodded, and Kise's lips touched his, soft and so very warm. Yukio closed his eyes as he struggled to breathe, and when Kise's tongue slid in past his parted lips, finding Yukio's tongue and pressing softly against it, a large part of Yukio's sanity took a short leave of absence as heat flooded him. Kise's hands went to his ass, pulling, tugging, rocking him up against Kise's leg, and as Yukio's dick finally clued in to what was happening, the rest of his sanity evaporated.
He burned with a lust so fierce it made his knees weak and his limbs heavy; a little longer and he'd start begging Kise to come closer, to touch him everywhere, to break him into pieces and put him back together, to make Yukio scream.
With a tremendous effort, Yukio tore himself away. "We can't, Kise. We shouldn't. You've got a shoot in Takayama tomorrow afternoon. I'll be picking you up early in the morning so you need to get your rest." He was babbling and he knew it, but this couldn't go on, not like this, not this suddenly, despite how badly he wanted it.
"Fine," Kise said, pulling out his phone. "Takayama's got lots of inns and it's off-peak season, right? I'll book us a nice room and we'll drive up today, that way we can spend the night and I can sleep in if I want."
Yukio sighed. "We'll never make it. What time is it now?"
"It's time to say okay, senpai." Kise stepped closer, and Yukio's everything liquefied at the proximity of him, the scent of his sweat from his sprint up the stairs; it was as though they had stepped back in time into the Kaijou locker room, post-practice. "I want this now, today. I don't want to wait."
"I don't want to wait either," Yukio whispered, tilting his face up to Kise's. The idea of spending the night at a picturesque mountain inn with just the two of them was tempting but that was a six hour drive away; four hours if they took trains. Too long. "Kise--"
Kise pushed him against the door, hard, insistent, hands tugging Yukio's shirt up as he kissed his neck, his palms cool against Yukio's stomach, growing warmer as he moved them up Yukio's sides; Yukio shivered. "I need to take a shower," Kise murmured into Yukio's ear. "But I don't wanna stop, so let's go in together."
Kise's bathroom was an ultra-modern one, with a shower cubicle and no bathtub; there was barely enough room for the two of them, but as far as Yukio was concerned, closer was much better.
Watching Kise undress had been strike one. It wasn't the first time ever, but it was the first time since Kaijou, and Kise had added bulk since then.
Moving soapy hands over those gorgeous muscles and feeling Kise tremble beneath his touch had been strike two.
Kise's tongue curling against his as they stroked each other beneath the shower spray while rinsing off had been the final strike.
"Fuck, Kise, I can't take this," Yukio growled, dropping to his knees. He pulled Kise's cock into his mouth in one swift, powerful suck; Kise gasped as his hands flew to Yukio's head, as if to pull him away -- Yukio didn't care what Kise tried, he wasn't going to let go. Kise felt as perfect in his mouth as he had in his hands, and Yukio tried to take more of him in until he was almost choking, curling his tongue against the underside as Kise came, noisily and without warning, clutching Yukio's hair.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," Kise whimpered, releasing his death grip and patting Yukio's hair softly. "I didn't mean to -- are you okay?"
Yukio licked the last of it off, getting a good dose of leftover soap for his trouble. "I'm fine," he said, rising unsteadily. "I've only wanted to do that for eight years, you know."
The look in Kise's eyes -- as though Yukio was all he could see -- was all he had ever wished for. Now he could die a messy death from his heart exploding out of his chest and he'd still die a happy man.
After they dried off, Kise led him out of the shower and into his bed, where he returned the favour and in spades; Yukio tried to hold back, but he came even faster than Kise had.
"Was that your first time?" Yukio asked as Kise climbed over to lie down beside him.
Yukio shook his head. "You're lying. You're way too good."
Kise threaded his fingers through Yukio's. "Mm, yeah, remember how I can copy basketball moves?"
"Bullshit," Yukio declared.
"No bullshit," Kise said. "If I can watch it, I can copy it." He looked far too pleased with himself.
"So this is what it would feel like if I could give myself a blowjob?"
Kise let go of his hand, sat up, and pulled the covers over them. "I guess. Is this weird for you?"
"What do you mean?"
Kise peered at him. "I mean, having sex and lying together in bed like this. And stuff."
Dread began to rise in Yukio's chest, but he would never play games with Kise. He'd tell the truth. "No," he said. "I-- I never thought it would happen. So I'm really happy. If it's weird for you, though--"
"It's not," Kise interrupted. "That's what's weird. I've never felt this comfortable after having sex before. It's like -- it's like we got back together."
Yukio didn't know how to answer that. He turned onto his side, facing Kise. It was cosy under the covers, so warm he could sleep until morning. Which presented a problem.
"I should go," Yukio said after glancing at the wall clock.
Kise grabbed him into a hug so fierce Yukio's teeth clicked together. "Stay. You have to come back here in the morning anyway."
Yukio started to open his mouth to object, but found that he had no argument to make aside from I'm scared that you'll wake up tomorrow morning regretting all of this, and that was not something he was about to tell Kise. That wasn't a mind game; Yukio wouldn't lie, but he wasn't ready to throw open every door.
He closed his eyes and pulled the blanket tighter to him. He had never spent a whole night in the same bed as another person; it was strange how unpredictable a mattress could be when you weren't the only one on it. Kise's arms around him were heavy, reassuring. When other people had tried to do this to him, he'd always found it stifling.
"You'll have to take the backseat tomorrow," Yukio murmured from the edge of sleep. "I don't think I'll be able to drive if you're right next to me."
"You like me that much, huh, senpai?"
"Aren't you just fishing for compliments? I'll kick your ass." Yukio thought about making good on the threat right away, but he was either too tired or too comfortable. "In the morning," he amended.
When morning came, there were no regrets.