[Slam Dunk] [RuHana]
Title: and the things we know
Fandom: Slam Dunk
Characters: Rukawa, Sakuragi
Word Count: 634
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It’s been seven months. It’s been a long time.
Author's Notes: I wrote this in the freaking library, WTF. Sorry.
--
Rukawa comes back on the third day of summer. Sakuragi knows when summer starts like it’s official, like it’s a fact-- it is when his shirt starts becoming attached to him on his way home, when he has to change almost immediately because he feels sticky. This is summer, he thinks. And three days after that, Rukawa comes back.
+
Sakuragi doesn’t drop everything and run into Rukawa's arms when he finds him sitting on the sidewalk outside Sakuragi house, eyes closed and face calm, familiar. Sakuragi just sort of slows down and stops to look down at the sleeping man, then smiles. He switches the plastic bag he’s holding in his right hand into his left and fishes for his keys inside his pocket.
He unlocks the gate, and kicks Rukawa’s foot, none too lightly. It’s been seven months. It’s been a long time.
When Rukawa wakes up Sakuragi is already halfway to the front door. “You coming in or what?” Sakuragi asks, and it’s been a long time, but it feels like nothing has changed.
“Hn.”
+
Sakuragi is talking and talking about college life as he prepares ramen in the kitchen, and he doesn’t stop until Rukawa casually asks him if he still doesn’t know how to cook anything that doesn’t involve powder and boiling water and ‘in three minutes flat.’ Sakuragi glares at him as he hands him the plate, and Rukawa takes it anyway.
“Asshole,” Sakuragi says, and continues prattling on about how Sendoh did a pretty cool dunk last Tuesday, and how he could’ve done it, too, really, if the game hadn’t ended so quickly.
And Sakuragi doesn’t stop to ask Rukawa how he’s been all this time, not once.
Sakuragi talks around his noodles, and when he swallows, Rukawa kisses him. For the first time in seven months, and it is brief and it makes Sakuragi’s heart clench in that strange strange way.
He doesn’t ask how Rukawa has been, but when Rukawa’s tongue runs over his lips, all he knows is that Rukawa must have missed him, must have needed this badly, because there’s a tremor in his hand as he places it on Sakuragi’s face like it’s something sacred, and everything else about this, everything-- just screams hushed longing.
Sakuragi doesn’t ask, he just opens his mouth and lets the answers come to him in waves, easy, deafening.
+
Posters on the wall and heat slipping through tiny cracks, and it would be another recurring summer day except Rukawa’s arms are around him. Sakuragi smiles into his pillow, and loves how the curtains are shutting sunlight away.
Sakuragi has the suspicion that this would be a beautiful day spent outside, but there is something exquisite about lying here in rumpled sheets, and he thinks he can figure out why.
Rukawa rustles in his sleep and wraps his arms tighter around Sakuragi waist, murmurs things into his neck.
“What?” Sakuragi asks, sleepily, poking Rukawa’s arm.
“I said, I wish you had air-conditioning,” Rukawa says clearly, and Sakuragi kicks him under the sheets.
A few minutes later, in the silence and the heat, the question is at the tip of Sakuragi’s tongue, waiting to be asked.
Sakuragi swallows and hates that he has to know the answer, hates that it matters at all.
“When-” Sakuragi starts, and Rukawa kisses him, quickly and not without purpose.
“I don’t know,” he says when he pulls away, eyes too blue and too piercing, too honest and knowing too much of everything. And Sakuragi believes him, because he doesn’t want it to matter, and maybe it doesn’t. Maybe Rukawa can make it not matter.
“I really wish you had air-conditioning,” Rukawa says again, and Sakuragi laughs and presses more firmly against his body. He forgets for now.
“Yeah. Yeah, me, too.”
END
Fandom: Slam Dunk
Characters: Rukawa, Sakuragi
Word Count: 634
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It’s been seven months. It’s been a long time.
Author's Notes: I wrote this in the freaking library, WTF. Sorry.
--
Rukawa comes back on the third day of summer. Sakuragi knows when summer starts like it’s official, like it’s a fact-- it is when his shirt starts becoming attached to him on his way home, when he has to change almost immediately because he feels sticky. This is summer, he thinks. And three days after that, Rukawa comes back.
+
Sakuragi doesn’t drop everything and run into Rukawa's arms when he finds him sitting on the sidewalk outside Sakuragi house, eyes closed and face calm, familiar. Sakuragi just sort of slows down and stops to look down at the sleeping man, then smiles. He switches the plastic bag he’s holding in his right hand into his left and fishes for his keys inside his pocket.
He unlocks the gate, and kicks Rukawa’s foot, none too lightly. It’s been seven months. It’s been a long time.
When Rukawa wakes up Sakuragi is already halfway to the front door. “You coming in or what?” Sakuragi asks, and it’s been a long time, but it feels like nothing has changed.
“Hn.”
+
Sakuragi is talking and talking about college life as he prepares ramen in the kitchen, and he doesn’t stop until Rukawa casually asks him if he still doesn’t know how to cook anything that doesn’t involve powder and boiling water and ‘in three minutes flat.’ Sakuragi glares at him as he hands him the plate, and Rukawa takes it anyway.
“Asshole,” Sakuragi says, and continues prattling on about how Sendoh did a pretty cool dunk last Tuesday, and how he could’ve done it, too, really, if the game hadn’t ended so quickly.
And Sakuragi doesn’t stop to ask Rukawa how he’s been all this time, not once.
Sakuragi talks around his noodles, and when he swallows, Rukawa kisses him. For the first time in seven months, and it is brief and it makes Sakuragi’s heart clench in that strange strange way.
He doesn’t ask how Rukawa has been, but when Rukawa’s tongue runs over his lips, all he knows is that Rukawa must have missed him, must have needed this badly, because there’s a tremor in his hand as he places it on Sakuragi’s face like it’s something sacred, and everything else about this, everything-- just screams hushed longing.
Sakuragi doesn’t ask, he just opens his mouth and lets the answers come to him in waves, easy, deafening.
+
Posters on the wall and heat slipping through tiny cracks, and it would be another recurring summer day except Rukawa’s arms are around him. Sakuragi smiles into his pillow, and loves how the curtains are shutting sunlight away.
Sakuragi has the suspicion that this would be a beautiful day spent outside, but there is something exquisite about lying here in rumpled sheets, and he thinks he can figure out why.
Rukawa rustles in his sleep and wraps his arms tighter around Sakuragi waist, murmurs things into his neck.
“What?” Sakuragi asks, sleepily, poking Rukawa’s arm.
“I said, I wish you had air-conditioning,” Rukawa says clearly, and Sakuragi kicks him under the sheets.
A few minutes later, in the silence and the heat, the question is at the tip of Sakuragi’s tongue, waiting to be asked.
Sakuragi swallows and hates that he has to know the answer, hates that it matters at all.
“When-” Sakuragi starts, and Rukawa kisses him, quickly and not without purpose.
“I don’t know,” he says when he pulls away, eyes too blue and too piercing, too honest and knowing too much of everything. And Sakuragi believes him, because he doesn’t want it to matter, and maybe it doesn’t. Maybe Rukawa can make it not matter.
“I really wish you had air-conditioning,” Rukawa says again, and Sakuragi laughs and presses more firmly against his body. He forgets for now.
“Yeah. Yeah, me, too.”
END