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Takao looks back now, and knows it all started when he first played Midorima in middle school.
He knew the rest of the Generation of Miracles, obviously, but when he played against them there was only one person who stuck out, one person who he fixated on, one person he resolved to beat, so he really shouldn’t be surprised that when he found himself on the same team as him, he’d wind up even more fixated. He’s Takao’s exact type! Uptight, arrogant, know-it-all, abrasive… he wonders how this became his type, actually. He must have some wires crossed somewhere.
Maybe it was the intrigue of finding someone so functionally different from himself, like he wanted to get to him up close and inspect him under a microscope, analyse the creases of his brain and work out how and why he acts the way he does. Maybe it was just because Midorima was tall, and handsome, and good at basketball, and they were all things his simple teenage brain liked, that he found himself endeared to the quirks that always seemed to grate so easily on everybody else.
One difference between them, out of the many he’s come to find outside of the basics: Midorima is left handed, he’s right; Midorima’s blood type is B, Takao’s is O; Midorima prefers miso ramen, Takao prefers tonkotsu; is that Takao can always tell when someone is flirting with him. He knows he isn’t hard to look at, and being a starter on a basketball team as strong as Shuutoku is pretty hot social currency, so it happens more than enough that he’s accustomed to recognising it.
Midorima, however, doesn’t seem to notice at all. He can’t tell when it’s coming from the new volunteer at his favourite antique shop, overexerting herself to his every whim as he buys his lucky item in the morning, he can’t tell when it comes from a classmate stuttering with a pretty pink scented letter, and by all accounts, he cannot tell, even a little bit when Takao is flirting with him.
☆
It starts, like most things do since he started playing basketball with him at Shuutoku, with Midorima’s hands.
They’d played and won together, and lost together, on the team for the majority of the year now and Takao, as perceptive as he is, figured out the brand of tape he used and the exact way Midorima liked to protect his hands pretty quickly. After that, it was just waiting until he found his time to strike.
“Shin-chan,” he started, singing his name and eliciting a roll of the eyes from the other man as they sat in the locker room after practice, “can I try taping your hand?”
“Why on earth would I let you do that?”
“I don’t know, maybe a reason will pop up one day. What if you injure a finger on your right hand and you’re unable to tape and protect your precious left while it recovers? You’ll need someone to do it for you then. Who better than your partner?”
“My partner,” he scoffs, “you sound like Kuroko. But you do have a point. I’ll let you just once, as training in case such an emergency arises.”
Step one of Takao’s plan was in motion! And he knew this could not fail. It was practically the oldest flirting trick in the book. He bounced to sit next to him, picked up Midorima’s hand carefully and touched their palms together, his fingers reaching just below his second knuckle.
“Wow Shin-chan, your hands are so big,” he said, keeping them pressed together, staring in faux wonder.
“You already knew what my hands looked like before you started this, Takao,” Midorima said, not even a hint of a blush on his cheeks, much to Takao’s disappointment. He wasn’t going to give up yet though.
“Yeah, but just look how different they are. Your hands are so big, and mine are so small, Shin-chan, isn’t that interesting? They’re really pretty too, because you take such fine care of them.” He presses his own even closer, hoping Midorima will reflexively grasp the top of his fingertips over his own, or better still, shift and lace their fingers together.
“It’s hardly interesting. Hand size correlates with height, and I’m taller than you.”
How was he not falling for this? He should at least be a little bit embarrassed. Takao was acting like the pick-me protagonist in a terribly cliche high school movie and Midorima was giving him absolutely nothing back! That’s just heartless, at least let me down gently, Shin-chan… he thought, before getting on with the task he’d landed himself with.
It didn’t really help his predicament, to be faced with actually going through with this after being wholly ignored in his romantic endeavours, because he wasn’t lying when he said Midorima had nice hands. He liked them a lot, maybe too much, maybe his eyes lingered on them a little too long in practice as his mind wandered away from their methodical, repetitive training, and as he received the ultimate show of trust while Midorima sat there, not showing any discomfort at all as Takao tried his best to replicate the routine he saw carried out every day on his most precious asset, his brain screamed expletives at him for landing himself in this position in the first place. It feels like the dam has finally broken, and he knows it’s going to be a lot harder to just get over his crush after this.
“All done Shin-chan, what do you think?”
Midorima picked his hand up and bought it closer to his face, turning it over and inspecting it with a hum and a small quirk of his lips.
“Satisfactory. Let’s make our way out.”
(Midorima stands up so quickly that Takao can’t see the redness burning away at the tips of his ears.)
“I’m definitely going to win rock paper scissors tonight! You will be driving me home, mark my words.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
(Midorima’s ears still haven’t calmed down as he sits in the rickshaw, and he’s thankful for the dark night obscuring them as they burn even hotter when Takao turns around and throws him a smile while they’re waiting at a red light.)
☆
Takao decides he needs to enlist some outside help from someone that knows Midorima pretty well. He doesn’t think Aomine, Murasakibara or God forbid, Akashi, who scared the wits out of him on a good day, would be of much use, so he asks to meet up with Kise, who he’d already forged a friendship with pretty easily himself when they’d first met.
“Kikkun, has Shin-chan ever liked someone before?” he asks while biting around his straw as he sips on his frappe. Kise is drinking from a much more refined iced Americano, and he feels childish enough asking this question, let alone while inhaling a cup of pure sugar, but Takao just accepts that he hasn’t reached that level of maturity yet. He’ll put it down to their five month age difference.
“Midorimacchi? Not from what I remember. I asked him so many times, but you know him, he hates telling me anything! Not even when I’m so nice and kind to him…” he lamented.
“Do you think there’s anyone who would know?”
“I mean, he was closest to Akashi, I think if he told anyone it would probably be him.”
Takao shudders. He already knew that was the answer, but he absolutely was not, under any circumstances, asking Akashi. He doesn’t care if he’s supposedly turned a new leaf since his loss to Seirin, he knows what he heard during their game and he is not opening his mail to a pair of eyeballs if he accidentally says something wrong.
“Why are you asking this anyway, Takaocchi? Do you think Midorimacchi is interested in someone? Does he have a girlfriend?” Kise’s question trails off into nothing as he spots the grimace on Takao’s face and it all falls into place.
“Oh! You like Midorimacchi, don’t you?” he asks with a glint in his eye.
“You can’t tell him.”
“Why aren’t you telling him, Takaocchi?”
“I’m hoping he’ll figure it out himself.”
(If Kise can hypothesise on anything to do with Midorima’s love life, it’s that that probably isn’t going to happen in the next million years. He’ll have to take matters into his own hands.)
“Do you want me to be your wingman?” he asks, eyes sparkling again, and Takao’s stomach feels slightly uneasy at the look on Kise’s face, but he could just be imagining it, and it could just be all the cream he just consumed, so he doesn’t quite agree, but he doesn’t quite disagree either.
☆
Kise doesn’t leave him alone for the rest of the week, Takao finding out that once he has an idea in his head he really, really doesn’t let it go, informing him he has found experts in matters of the heart and that he’ll set up an urgent meeting between them by the weekend. In the meantime, Takao tries his hand at riling up Midorima again himself. Just in case it works this time.
They’re at practice, the third years wholly ignoring their retirement and still working hard with each of the remaining starters, and the hopefuls from the rest of the first string wanting to join them for next year, pending the arrival of the incoming first years, in the main gym after the group practice finished and the rest of the team dissipated. Midorima, like usual, firmly planted himself just beyond the three point line, shooting ball after ball from the crate of them next to him with his patented textbook form.
Takao picks up the latest one bouncing away as it hits the floor after making it through the net — obviously — and walks over to Midorima as he gets himself into position once again.
“Hey, Shin-chan, why don’t we take a break? Let’s go to the vending machine and get a drink together. I’ll pay,” he says, resting a hand on his raised left bicep, fluttering his eyelashes up and making direct eye contact.
He regrets it almost immediately, and starts kicking himself mentally, and knows he will physically when he’s lying awake thinking this over before he sleeps tonight, because direct eye contact with Midorima meant direct eye contact with his pretty green irises, his wispy long lashes, his high cheekbones he wishes he could run his thumbs over while kissing him, and when he blinks he has to hold it for as long as he can without looking weird, because it hurts like he’s been staring at the sun.
“I’m in the middle of my shooting practice, as you can see,” is all he replies, not even a single feather ruffled, and Takao drops his hand as Midorima shoots the ball in his. It sails through the air and makes it through without ever touching the rim, just like every single other shot Takao had saw him take tonight.
(It was imperceptible to anyone but Midorima himself, but his hands had started to sweat as he looked down into Takao’s sharp, powerful blue eyes, and the ball didn’t feel quite right as it left it’s last point of contact with his fingertips. He holds his breath, and exhales in relief as it makes it through like normal, keeping his cover.)
(Kimura throws a pointed look to and raises his brow at Ootsubo, who just shakes his head in return, while Miyaji grimaces silently at the display in front of them. They’ll debrief the situation once their idiot, oblivious underclassmen were out of earshot.)
☆
Takao finds out on Friday night, sitting at the Maji Burger five minutes walk away from Seirin High School, that Kise’s ‘experts in matters of the heart’ are Kuroko and Kagami, who Kise introduces as “the most married people he knows!” Kuroko just kept sipping on his milkshake, but Kagami at least had the sense to look a little bit embarrassed at Kise’s loud proclamation.
“Kikkun, I thought it might be someone with a bit more… knowledge for my situation?” he said, watching them across the booth, at how Kuroko unwrapped and took the pickles out of Kagami’s burger, handing it to him with perfect timing as he finishes his previous one, “I don’t really understand how Kuroko and Kagami are supposed to help me here. They’re each others first boyfriend and they started dating within two months of knowing each other. Shin-chan is a lot harder of a nut to crack.”
“I thought you might say that, but my Kurokocchi has a lot of hidden talents! He’s the most observant person I know, surely that will be helpful in finding out if Midorimacchi likes you back!”
As Kagami bristled at Kise’s overfamiliar use of the word my, Takao was starting to regret involving him in the first place. He meant well, but he couldn’t see this ending the way he wanted to. He starts wondering if he should just stew away in his bedroom pining forever instead of putting himself through this.
“What do you suggest, Kuroko?”
“We should all go somewhere together, so I can see how you interact. Either that or I can trail you for a day.”
Takao doesn’t like the sound of that, but he’s pretty sure Kuroko is just telling one of his dry, hard to parse jokes like usual anyway, so he goes with the first option.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Karaoke!” Kise butts in excitedly, and a flash of something unknown takes a hold of Kuroko’s features, but Takao has no other ideas, the situation is all too weird for him to think of something better on the spot, and he likes karaoke enough himself, so he agrees.
“Do I get any say in what we do, or am I just expected to show up?” Kagami asks gruffly, finishing the last item on his tray and rests his hands on his stomach.
“The second part, Kagami-kun,” Kuroko replied. They really were practically married. Their interactions could be mistaken for Takao's parents around the dinner table.
“Let Midorimacchi know, Takaocchi! We’ll go on Sunday,” Kise said, finishing his sentence by chiming “it’s a date!”
(Kuroko could see the remorse at getting himself into this mess already written into the creases under Takao’s eyes, but selfishly, he isn’t going to cancel and make this easier. He has to confirm his suspicions he’s had about Midorima since the summer.)
“Kikkun, won’t this be weird for you? You’ll be pretty much fifth wheeling, don’t you want to invite someone for yourself?” Takao asked on their way out of the door.
“I’m married to the music, Takaocchi,” he replies very solemnly, and Takao swears he hears a snort and a small jerk of a movement to go with it from someone with blue hair out of the corner of his eye.
“See you on the weekend, Takao-kun, Kise-kun,” Kuroko said with a small smile, a hand grasping at Kagami’s, who himself waved his other in the vague direction of Takao and Kise as they walked down the left side of the street.
“Wait, Kurokocchi! Why does Takaocchi’s name come first?!” Kise wailed, running after them, and Takao actually needs to go in that direction too, but he doesn’t want to catch up to the noise quite yet so he just takes a seat on his bike — thankfully sans the rickshaw for tonight— and rests his head on the handlebars, wondering if this mess was ever going to end up with the result he wanted or if he was somehow making the worst of an already futile situation.
☆
Takao informs Midorima of their plans for the next day at 8am on Saturday, when the green haired man comes knocking at his door to go out and buy shade 6 of a pot concealer that costs under 1000 yen. Takao swears that Oha-Asa was not this specific in her instructions at the beginning of the school year when Midorima first introduced her superstitious yet eerily predictive ways to him, but he shoves his feet into his shoes anyway and bends down to pull the stepped down backs out after locking the door behind him.
“We’re going to karaoke with Kikkun, Kuroko and Kagami tomorrow, Shin-chan. Be ready for 5pm,” he says, looking up at his face as they walk and Takao sees a flash across his features, scarily similar to the one Kuroko had at Maji Burger last night when Kise mentioned karaoke.
(The back of Midorima’s neck starts itching when he hears that Takao has a nickname for Kise, but he says nothing.)
“Do not just volunteer me out for activities, Takao,” he scolded, pushing up his glasses.
“You’ll come though, won’t you?”
(Midorima’s skin hurts with how badly he wants to scratch it, but glancing down at Takao’s hopeful face, he doesn't find himself able to say no.)
“Fine. You will understand the mess you have embroiled both of us in soon enough.”
Takao’s head quirks up at the ominous statement.
“You can’t just say that, Shin-chan! What do you mean?!”
“I will divulge nothing more on the matter. You will see when we are there.”
For the nth time this week, Takao affectionately regrets ever becoming familiar with Kise Ryouta.
☆
Kise is genuinely awful at singing. That’s what all the mystery was about. He’s just teetering on the edge of being hilarious and downright painful depending on the song, some are better if the pitch is lower, some are comparable with a cat yowling in heat. He has no sense of rhythm or tempo either, so every song is butchered from the start. Takao’s stomach has been aching with the force of his laughter since they got into the booth.
No one else is even getting a chance with how ardently he commandeers the control and one of the two mics available. Almost an hour in and Kuroko had managed to get him to hand it over to sing one very begrudging, yet somehow sickeningly sweet duet with Kagami, who basically just spoke through the song but it was still better than anything Kise had offered up, and Takao managed to get a couple of solos through, which were definitely the best performances of the night so far, if he does say so himself. Midorima had been quiet though, not choosing to speak up much other than to deride the fool of the evening, a small ceramic swan in his hand that he covered over, like it could somehow break from the sound waves of Kise’s voice, and he couldn’t be persuaded into singing, no matter how many times Takao pouted and looked up at him through his eyelashes or suggested a campy duet.
He absolutely shouldn’t have let Kise choose the activity, because this was doing zero for his chances with Midorima, but they’re here, and Takao can feel Kuroko watching them like he said he would, so he hopes he finds out something new from this experience in the end, but Takao feels like he’s waited long enough already and would really rather get to the part where Midorima likes him back now, and not suffer through more hearing damage. While it has been funnier than anything else Takao has done for a while, he does understand Midorima treating it like he’d put their lives into grave danger.
As the warning for their final five minutes flashes onto the screen, Kise screams out as if he’s been burned.
“No! I can’t leave without singing this song!” he cried, scrabbling for the control pad on the table, and not even two characters in to typing the name of the song, Midorima and Kuroko groan in tandem.
“Not this song, Kise, you’ve terrorised us enough,” Midorima said, groaning again, standing and reaching over to try and grab the control from his hands, to no avail, Kise defending it passionately.
“He’s right, Kise-kun, please, you don’t have to do this every single time.”
“Yes I do, Kurokocchi! It’s a karaoke classic!”
“Their karaoke classic is Hug, Kise-kun, I’ve told you this before,” Kuroko said, doing anything to delay the pressing of play on the song, hoping the time would run out.
“Well it’s my classic, Kurokocchi!” he exclaims as he triumphantly finishes punching in the characters.
Takao can see by now that he’s typed in ‘Love In The Ice’ by Tohoshinki, and he jumps out of his seat in joy.
“Kikkun, you might be my soulmate! This is my favourite song for karaoke too!” and while Takao would prefer not to hear Kise butcher it along with him, he’s still not passing up on the opportunity to sing it while he’s here.
(Kuroko sees Midorima’s hand curl into a fist and his mouth draw into a thin, straight line at the word soulmate, and smiles to himself, his suspicions now fully confirmed. He's seen everything he needed to see. When he turns back to look at Kagami, he can see that he’s noticed too, and gives Kuroko a small eyebrow raise, to which he just smiles and puts his hand over Kagami’s that sits on his thigh.)
They quickly divide the parts between them, and while Kise may desecrate the lines of Xiah Junsu to the point he’ll have to listen to it for an hour on repeat to remember what they were actually supposed to sound like when he got home, they find that Takao carries off a pretty decent Hero Jaejoong and they’re able to leave the room not entirely downtrodden for the night — save for Kise of course, who is riding the high of an hour and a half of straight singing, completely unabashed by the terror he’d caused. Takao doesn’t think this place has the most high spec soundproofing though, because the attendant outside looks verifiably fuming at being subjected to Kise’s caterwauling too, but she relaxes a little once he throws her his signature wink.
“That song came out the last summer we were at Teikou. He’d drag us there just to sing it at least once a fortnight to sing it after until the school year finished. We were barely even friends, and we all had to sit through that,” Midorima said with a shiver as they walked back out onto the street, sounding more like he was explaining a hostage situation and not sitting through a terrible rendition of a five minute long song.
“Why did you keep going?!” Takao asks, reaching out and holding onto his arm.
(Kise’s eyes follow the movement of Takao moving to touch Midorima, and pays attention to the way he doesn’t flinch at the contact the way he would with anyone else.)
“I… don’t actually know,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose and Takao breaks into a fit of laughter stronger than any other he’d had this evening, which was tough competition, but Midorima’s unintentional humour was always the funniest to him, which reminds him again just how screwed he is.
“You’ll never make it as an idol if you give up on basketball, Kikkun, I think it’s best to just stick to modelling,” Takao said, wheezing out his last few giggles, abs aching as he moved.
“Rude, Takaocchi! They have autotune, and I could easily just be the visual of the group,” he replied with a run of his hands through his hair, and Takao hears Kuroko gag which just sets him off again.
“Come on Shin-chan, I’ll give you a free ride back in the rickshaw with no game for it tonight, as repayment for dragging you here and killing your hearing,” he says, pulling on his arm and parting from the rest of the group with a wave goodbye, Midorima throwing a swift nod.
“Sorry, Shin-chan. I won’t let him choose our activities ever again,” Takao says, mounting the bike.
“As long as you have learned your lesson, that is all I can ask for,” he replies, parking himself in the back of the rickshaw, swan in hand.
(There’s a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looks at the back of Takao’s head while he rides the bike towards his house, and he averts his eyes away, feeling wrong for even looking at him right now when his interests so clearly lie with someone else. Midorima wants nothing more than to lie down in a quiet room, away from anything and everyone, and to maybe curse out Kise Ryouta mercilessly in his head for a while.)
☆
Midorima has already left and made his own way to school when Takao calls by his house for him the next morning, and he doesn’t know how, but he knows that he messed up somewhere. He knows it was a bad move, to have him sit through one of Kise’s whims, but it wasn’t quite bad enough for him to freeze him out, and he didn’t seem to have that terrible of a time, so the only thing Takao’s logical brain can land on is that Midorima had found out that Takao liked him, and wasn’t interested, maybe that he was disgusted, but under any circumstances, hated him now.
He’s doing a perfect job of avoiding him too, between every class, at every break he disappears, and in class he sits bolt upright, eyes trained forward as Takao stares forlornly into the back of his head from the seat behind him, resting his own head down on the desk until their teacher notices and he has to start working again. He doesn’t think Coach Nakatani would take lovesickness as an excuse not to do his English exercise.
Takao decides it’s all useless, and skips practice for the day too. He doesn’t want to make Midorima uncomfortable by being there, and he’s received a pretty big signal that he doesn’t want to be around him, and if he has somehow found out about Takao’s feelings, that he doesn’t reciprocate. Instead he takes himself for ice cream, and eats it on a park bench with his knees drawn up to his chest, and texts Kise, Kuroko and Kagami for an urgent meeting tonight.
☆
They’re back at that Maji Burger next to Seirin, the table set up the same as the previous Friday but Takao is much more subdued, much to the confusion of the other three people at the table.
“I think Shin-chan hates me. Or at the very least, he really isn’t into me,” Takao says, and takes a sad bite out of his burger, but it tastes like sawdust and sits uncomfortably in his mouth, so he grabs his drink and tries to wash it away.
“Takaocchi… what are you talking about?” Kise asks, genuinely taken aback, Kuroko and Kagami sharing a perplexed look between each other too.
“He ignored me, he walked to school alone, he ate lunch alone, he avoided me the entire day. Either your singing was really, really bad this time Kikkun, or Shin-chan found out I like him somehow and now he hates me for it.”
“Takao-kun, I don’t want to sound presumptuous, but I think it would be obvious to anyone who spent any time around the two of you together that Midorima-kun likes you. I'd even go as far as to say he is in love with you,” Kuroko says, with that level voice he always used, and the word love rings through Takao’s head like a bell.
“You know, I could see it too. It’s pretty clear that he likes you, Takao,” Kagami added on.
“What?”
“We’re saying you’re wrong, Takaocchi. And whatever is wrong with Midorimacchi too, you have the wrong idea about it. There is no chance that he doesn’t like you back. We all thought you were calling us here to tell us you’d started dating!”
“What?” he asks again, still not quite sure if he’s hearing right.
“I know you want him to figure it out for himself Takaocchi, but your approach isn’t working. Maybe he got confused somewhere, maybe he has the wrong idea about something, but it’s time that you actually talk to him about this, you need to communicate properly,” Kise says, and Takao had no idea he could be so mature and profound. He suddenly feels bad for all of the times he’s lambasted him inside his head recently.
“Won’t your practice still be on by this time, Takao-kun? You should go back and talk to him,” Kuroko says, but he’s already out of his seat at the booth and calling out a thank you as he weaves between the other people at the restaurant making his way to the door.
☆
He’s still there in the gym, fastidiously practicing even after everyone else had left when Takao gets there, and he thanks whoever is listening for allowing him to get there on time, even throwing out one for Oha-Asa and definitely promising to check his rank and carry his lucky item tomorrow, just in case it was her doing.
“Shin-chan,” he calls out, but Midorima doesn’t stop, his arms shaking from exertion, picking up a ball and pulling up into position and shooting it over and over until he calls his name again.
“Shin-chan.”
“What is it, Takao?” he asks, carrying on his same movements, chest heaving.
“I like you, Shin-chan,” he says, and finally, Midorima falters. The ball he shoots hits straight off the rim and bounces away unceremoniously across the floor.
“What?” Is all he says in return, and Takao laughs because it’s with the exact same inflection he’s not long asked the same question with to Kise, Kuroko and Kagami.
“I like you, Shin-chan,” he repeats, just to make sure.
“No, you don’t. You like Kise. You were flirting with me for practice, which is rather rude, considering you know my feelings and that I, in fact, like you,” he says, lifting up the edge of his shirt to wipe at his brow, and Takao’s mouth goes dry at the flash of his stomach, but now really isn’t the time.
“Shin-chan, I can tell you absolutely, with one hundred percent certainty that I do not like Kise, I have no idea where you got that from,” Takao replies with the most serious tone he can, “and what do you mean, I know that you like me?! You thought I was just joking when I hit on you?! You knew that I was flirting with you?!”
“I don’t believe that I have been very inconspicuous. Kuroko kept giving me that irritating all knowing look of someone in a steady relationship every time he glanced over at me since our training camp in the summer.”
“The summer?!” Takao says, and he’s very lightheaded by now so he stumbles over to the bench and parks himself down, undoing the jacket of his gakuran.
“If you knew I was flirting with you, why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t even react. I pulled out all of my best moves for you, Shin-chan.” He waits, and then adds, “the summer?!”
“I did react, you just didn’t notice. For example, I blush on my ears instead of my cheeks. And yes, to answer your question, since the summer. But I didn't say anything because I didn't think you were being serious,” he replies, lacking any of his characteristic arrogance, looking a little sheepish.
“But I’m supposed to be perceptive! We’re supposed to be partners, I’m supposed to be able to read you like a book!” he says, frustrated, shaking his head and grasping at his hair a little. Midorima takes a seat next to him and takes one of the hands buried in his hair, making him gasp as he looked up.
“I think we’ve both been a little bit foolish,” he says, pushing his glasses up with his free hand. Takao smiles at the admission, at the thought of Midorima being similarly a fool for him as he was for Midorima, and he frees his hand to grab his face and turn it towards his own.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Shin-chan, okay? Just to prove how much I like you and not anybody else.”
Midorima quickly takes his glasses off and meets him in the middle, and its messy and unpracticed, and their teeth keep hitting against one another in their excitement, but Takao is finally kissing Midorima the way he’d been thinking of all year, and he smiles, and he kind of wants to start singing, funnily enough.
They get the hang of it quickly, and Takao takes full joy in being able to touch Midorima how he’s been thinking of, fingers mapping out over his face, thumbs running over the slope of his nose and his jawline, his cheekbones and running under his eyelashes so he feels them against his fingertips as their lips connect over and over. They eventually part, and Takao places Midorima’s glasses back on his face with a smile.
“Do you believe me now, that I like you Shin-chan?”
“You made a very compelling argument,” he replies and kisses him again.
☆
“It’s late, are you going to take me home?” Midorima asks as he finishes changing out of his practice clothes back into his uniform, slipping his taped hand easily into Takao’s as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Someone was ignoring me this morning, so I didn’t even pick up the rickshaw from your house, Shin-chan,” he reminds him, and Midorima rolls his eyes.
“Forgive me, when yesterday it was all calling Kise by a nickname and singing love songs with him and calling him your soulmate,” Midorima says, turning his head in embarrassment, and Takao can see what he’s talking about, eyeing the red tips of his ears as he blushes.
“Are you being serious?! I never knew you could get so jealous over a joke, Shin-chan! I’ll never call him Kikkun again, if you want. I’ll strictly call him Kise-san,” Takao offers cheekily.
“That won’t be necessary, you have made your feelings and intentions very clear. Although I wish you had just spoken to me about them instead of involving him in the first place.”
“Yeah, me too. Kind of feels like he’s won as a wingman now when all he really did was terrorise us with his vocals. I don’t really like the thought of him taking any credit for us getting together, even if he was the reason I came back here tonight to talk to you. I haven't decided if he did more damage than good yet,” Takao says, swinging their hands between them, the air comfortable and quiet.
He speaks up again as they meet the intersection where their paths home diverge.
“Wanna play rock, paper, scissors for who walks who? Winner walks the other home.”
“You know you never win, just say you want me to walk you home.”
“Is that such a crime, Shin-chan? To want my tall, handsome boyfriend to walk me home?”
“No, I suppose not,” he replies with a poorly hidden smile, and like usual, Midorima wins, but Takao doesn't feel at all like a loser.