Disclaimer: Kuroko no Basuke © Tadatoshi Fujimaki-sensei.

A/N: Gosh. School bit my ass so hard that I forgot how to write. srsly.


Kiyoshi: Hahaha...

Me: Likewise.


"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Kiyoshi's face fell for a fraction of a second before grinning back at Hanamiya, who was fuming because of Kiyoshi's visitors in the first floor. Really, it was no big deal. There was Riko, Hyuuga, Izuki, Mitobe, Koganei and Kagami. He invited Kuroko too but Kiyoshi didn't know where the phantom player was…


Apparently, Hanamiya couldn't tolerate noise and the bickering downstairs was getting on his nerves. "Send them out. Now."

"Can't they stay for a few minutes?" Kiyoshi reasoned but his pleas landed on deaf ears; Hanamiya was more than ready to burn the apartment down to chase off those unruly runts.

"I said now."

Kiyoshi tried bargaining but all he got for a response was a bruised cheek.

Hanamiya's punches were getting better and Kiyoshi decided to take self-defense lessons.


Some mornings, Kiyoshi awoke to the mouth-watering scent of a home-cooked meal, courtesy of Hanamiya, of course.

In comparison, it was a lot better than Riko's, no offense to his former coach because Kiyoshi knew she meant well; however, he did wonder how Hanamiya managed to serve him a wonderful breakfast, even when the shorter male's ill intentions were leaking out like rabid wildfire.

Even as he feared for his well-being, he couldn't quite resist to ask.

"Why do you do these things even when you dislike me?" The question rubbed Hanamiya the wrong way and the rest was history.


Kiyoshi hadn't eaten anything as good as Hanamiya's cooking in a little over a week.

For the sake of sating his appetite, he made a deal with the devil's incarnate: a kick every time Hanamiya prepares anything for him.

In the long run, Kiyoshi thought, "Where's all that power coming from?"


Study sessions with Hanamiya weren't bad: Kiyoshi leafed through his statistics manual while Hanamiya memorized recipes out of a variety of books. They would slip into a comfortable silence, until Kiyoshi broke it (every damn time), which resulted in Hanamiya throwing a tantrum or barricading himself in his room.

"Once upon a time–"

Hanamiya got up and threw his pen at Kiyoshi but unfortunately, he missed. "What are you reading, idiot?!"

"Cinderella," Kiyoshi stated as calmly as possible. "You don't know Cinderella? It (the story) made me cry when I was a kid."

"Ha? The story's generic: damsel in distress plus the prince something." Hanamiya resumed scribbling down notes, presumably measurements of the ingredients.

Kiyoshi looked amused. "You read this?"

Hanamiya shot Kiyoshi a glare from across the table. "So?"

"You read this?" Kiyoshi teased and slowly, Hanamiya was catching his drift.

"No, asshole! My mom did, now shut up!"

Kiyoshi thought, "Mission: success."

He saw Hanamiya's cheeks as red as a beet and figured that it was about enough motivation to last him twenty more pages.


"I'll whip the eggs."


"Measure the sugar?"


"Hm, mix the batter?"


"… Separate the yolk from the whi–"


"Why not?"

"Just no."

"Hand-wash your clothes?"

"Fine, you dolt! Just get out of my sight!" Hanamiya snarled but for some reasons unknown to him, Kiyoshi was giddy.


Hanamiya didn't believe in the karmic circle but when he remembered his boxers and tightie-whities (oh hell no) sitting loftily over his mound of laundry, a long string of expletives was delivered.

Honestly speaking, however, Kiyoshi was far from sorry.


Kiyoshi tucked himself in the ledge of the loveseat. For some reason, there was a barrier, no matter how thought-up and imaginary, between him and Hanamiya. He observed that the smaller male was uncharacteristically silent, given the golden occasion when they shared a room together.

Against all logic, Kiyoshi decided to pester Hanamiya for it.


Hanamiya didn't even budge.


Kiyoshi inched closer but was ignored.

"Hm," Kiyoshi hummed. Apparently, Hanamiya fell asleep while working on a new recipe.

Kiyoshi observed how serene and innocent Hanamiya looked. Besides, the steady rise and fall of the former point guard's chest was definitely… seductive. He muttered to himself, "Snap out of it, Kiyoshi Teppei."

Attempting to take his mind off Hanamiya (and how it was a sin to possess such lengthy lashes and ash-white cheeks… oh no), Kiyoshi waddled to his room to retrieve a blanket. Some minutes later, he draped it on Hanamiya's slumbering form and then retreated to his bed, consciousness still swimming with the image of those slightly parted lips.


Hanamiya flushed a feverish red.

Suddenly, everything smelt like Kiyoshi as he buried his face into the comforts of the blanket.