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After a brutal day of practice at Shuutoku, the weather decided to take pity on Midorima and Takao. The skies, filled with dark clouds and shifting, slowly retreating rays of light, emptied onto the grounds. Raindrops hit the sidewalks with a soft pitter-patter against the cement.
“It’s raining,” Takao announced, tilting his head back. “Hey, Shin-chan, it actually feels pretty good—Shin-chan?” Midorima had already pulled out and opened an umbrella. It was bright yellow, which Takao felt inclined to laugh at, but he held it in.
“Did you have an umbrella in your sports bag the whole time?” Takao asked in disbelief.
“Obviously,” Midorima pushed up his glasses, “I come prepared for all possible situations, unlike some other individuals.” He glanced at Takao pointedly.
“Not my fault!” Takao said defensively. “The weather forecast didn’t mention anything about rain.”
“It’s no use relying on others for that information,” Midorima scoffed. “I also carry a poncho and windbreaker, should the weather become worse.”
“Of course you do,” Takao sighed. He pushed his hair out of his face, which was now hanging down in black strands. “I guess I should have at least brought a headband or something.”
“Hmmph,” Midorima said. Takao waited for him to continue, but there was only silence.
“‘Hmmph’, what?”
“Takao,” Midorima began stiffly. His face held a grim expression. “Because you are such...a fool, I will let you also use my umbrella...if needed.”
“But don’t misunderstand the situation,” he added quickly. “This is solely because of your recklessness, which I will take pity on.”
“Shin-chan, for someone so smart, you can be a big idiot sometimes,” Takao teased. “But, thanks. It’s nice to know you worry about me.”
“I am not worrying,” Midorima said crossly. “Having protection against the rain is simply for your own good.”
“Sure, let’s go with that,” Takao grinned. “It’s ok, though, I don’t need an umbrella.”
“What?”
“Seriously, I don’t!” Takao held his hands in the air, feeling rain splash against the sides of his arms. “Man, after running so many laps today, this is like heaven.”
He spun around once, waving his arms slightly while hopping around puddles of water that had appeared.
“What are you doing?” Midorima said, affronted.
“I’m dancing!” Takao called out. “It’s fun!” He attempted a pirouette, actually succeeding somewhat, before his foot slipped on wet gravel.
“Your skills are atrocious,” Midorima said critically. “It pains me to watch you make such a fool out of yourself.”
“Oh, really? Like you could do better?” Takao taunted.
“Of course I can,” Midorima sniffed. “Anyone can do better than that.”
“Ok, then, why don’t you show me?” Takao smirked. He grabbed Midorima's wrist, pulling him in front of the school entrance with him.
"What are you doing?" Midorima hissed, yanking his arm back.
"Come on, dance with me!" There was a rather suspicious glint in Takao's eyes. "Please?"
"Absolutely not."
"Aw, why not?"
"I'm not an idiot, that's why."
A wicked, slightly evil idea popped into Takao’s head.
"I saw Oha Asa today," he said threateningly. He felt quite victorious as an alarmed look appeared on Midorima's face.
"Cancer's lucky item today," Takao continued, "is a dance with someone, right?"
"So what if it is?" Midorima snapped.
"I'm just saying, you have the perfect opportunity to get your lucky item right now," Takao raised his eyebrows up and down.
Midorima glared at him for an unnecessarily long time, looking as though he was having a serious internal struggle with himself.
“Fine,” his voice came out strangled. “If you tell anyone about this, I will make sure of your untimely death, Takao.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Takao rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. Takao tugged on Midorima’s arm again, and this time, he begrudgingly let himself be pulled away.
Midorima danced like a stiff, out-of-shape robot, his movements almost mechanical. He wasn't particularly bad, just, well...mediocre.
Takao grabbed both of his hands, a little hesitantly. He felt Midorima's muscles tense up automatically. "Loosen up, Shin-chan, can't you waltz or something? Or a salsa?"
Midorima looked personally offended. "Of course I can waltz." He tightened his grip on Takao's hands—subconsciously or not, Takao didn't know—while taking a few steps to the left. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3...
"Ok, you're not that bad," Takao admitted. "But your waltz is still kinda stiff. Like, dancing in the rain isn't all fancy or anything, you're just having fun and stuff!"
"You're the one who asked if I could waltz," Midorima accused. "Do you really wish to see the full extent of my abilities?" The tone of his voice was so serious that a hysterical laugh escaped Takao's mouth.
"Yes, show me the full extent of your abilities, " Takao mimicked, pushing up his imaginary glasses.
“Very well.” Midorima, choosing to ignore that last comment, put a hand on Takao’s waist.
“Oh, jesus—” Takao couldn’t finish his sentence; Midorima moved fast. His steps were quick and graceful, too graceful for a six-foot-five giant. He spun Takao around—who, unfortunately, didn't expect it coming—and he stumbled over his own feet, leaning a little too close into Midorima's shoulder. But it was too late. Midorima was already moving on, stepping into a fast combination that Takao had no choice but to follow.
"Geez, Shin-chan, you're killing me!" Takao wheezed, but he knew he really didn't have a right to complain. It was fun, dancing like this, even though it was too fast-paced and intense and he would take basketball over dance any day of the week. It was nice, seeing a completely different side to Midorima.
Midorima spun him around again and again, until Takao's head was dizzy and his smile stretched from ear-to-ear. He threw his head back and laughed, indifferent to the droplets of water that ran down his forehead.
The very last spin turned into a dip. Midorima's hand balanced on the small of Takao's back, as Takao's body leaned downwards, and for a moment, they stared at each other. Their faces were so close that their noses were inches away from touching. Takao could see the light reflecting off of Midorima's green eyes behind his glasses, and the tiny raindrops that sparkled on his long eyelashes. Takao could do it then, he could kiss him right then and there, and he wanted to so desperately, but the terrified, afraid-of-rejection-and-losing-his-best-friend part of Takao held him back.
"Where'd you learn to dance like that?" he breathed instead.
"Ballroom dancing," Midorima answered, his cheeks flushed. "I took private lessons when I was younger." His hair, wet and dark green and limp, hung over his forehead. Takao felt the strange urge to brush it away.
"You're good, you know," Takao grinned, his chest still heaving. "I was totally wrong."
"Yes, well, you're wrong about many things," Midorima huffed. He placed his hand on Takao's shoulder so he could stand up properly. "Um. Sorry. About the dip."
"You're apologizing for that?" Takao laughed. "You should say sorry for almost killing me, Shin-chan—oh, by the way, can I use your umbrella now? And your windbreaker too. I'm kind of, like, drenched right now." The rain was still coming down, falling and falling and falling.
Midorima nodded. He picked his umbrella and his sports bag off the ground, unzipping it to take out his windbreaker. He handed it to Takao, who put it on immediately. It was thin, but warm, and at least two sizes too big for Takao. He rolled up the sleeves so they didn’t swallow his hands completely.
“Thanks, Shin-chan,” Takao said, in the sing-song voice that annoyed Midorima to no end.
“You’re welcome,” Midorima said stiffly. He held his yellow umbrella over both of their heads. Takao shuffled just the tiniest bit closer to Midorima, until their shoulders brushed as they stood on the sidewalk. His heart beat louder and louder, the sound of it roaring in his ears. Do it now, do it now, Takao, don't be an idiot!
Midorima gave him a strange look before speaking. "Let's go home, Taka-mmph—" Takao cut him off, pressing his lips against Midorima's.
It was wet and sloppy, with rainwater that hadn't quite dried yet still carving paths down their cheeks. It wasn't anything remarkable, and it might have even been Takao's worst kiss ever, but it was with Midorima Shintarou.
And that was all that mattered.
They stood there, Takao still leaning in, and Midorima closing the distance between them. Takao reached for Midorima's hand, long, thin fingers intertwining with his. The second kiss was an improvement—it was warmer and softer, and Midorima's breath was gentle against his mouth as he leaned in again.
They stood there, Takao in his too-big windbreaker, and Midorima in his drenched basketball shirt, kissing under dark skies with thunder clapping in the distance, faces hidden under an umbrella as bright as the sun.
And still, raindrops hit the ground, the softest pitter-patter sound.