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“Tetsu?” Aomine whispered, voice hesitant and uncharacteristically soft against the calm silence of nightfall. Kuroko was sure if he turned over to look back at the other, Aomine would be staring back at him, dark eyes intense and gleaming under the slivers of moonlight that peeked in between the slightly parted curtains. It was a sight that had pinned and enraptured him the first time he’d seen it, and one that he was sure he’d never quite get used to.
Too bad he wasn’t ever going to get used to Aomine’s late night philosophy, either.
The blankets rustled, and the bed dipped gently next to Kuroko as the other shifted restlessly. He was probably propping himself up on his pillow to better check if he was awake. (Frankly, if Kuroko had a choice in the matter, he most certainly would not be.) “Hey Tetsu,” the dense dickwad tried again, clearly not taking the hint.
Maybe if he played dead, Aomine would leave him alone. Kuroko held his breath experimentally.
“Do you,” more rustling and fidgeting, “do you ever wonder if pigeons have feelings?”
Kuroko suppressed a long-suffering groan and chose instead to just press his eyelids even tighter together. Faking his death was not working, evidently.
“I’m serious, this is important!” Oh god, Kuroko could feel Aomine’s breath against the back of his neck. He must have shifted closer to attempt to peer into his face. For someone who had no problem laughing at Kise’s puppy-like predilections during the day, Aomine was strangely clingy at night, Kuroko was quickly coming to find. While he might have found it endearing in another situation – any other situation – 1AM really was not the time for it. “There was this real scrawny pigeon – like, real scrawny – and I’m pretty sure it was getting picked on, you know?”
There he goes. Sleep was not written in the near future, so it seemed. “Uh huh,” Kuroko finally mumbled tiredly, flopping over to face the apparent pigeon enthusiast. Lo and behold, Aomine’s face was inches away (though blurred through Kuroko’s sleep-addled vision), propped up on one arm. Even with his eyes squinted against the heavy lure of sleep, he could vaguely discern the earnest expression on the other’s face.
Kuroko idly wondered when and how his life had changed so much that he was subjected to late night talks on pigeon well-being.
He scrunched his nose as Aomine’s next breath, warm and humid, washed over his face. Sighing, he relented, “What about the pigeon?”
“There were a bunch of super fat pigeons, and you know birds,” here, Aomine waved his free arm dismissively, before draping it over Kuroko’s shoulders, tugging him against his chest, “they’re all a bunch of selfish fucks. So this sad skinny pigeon right, he’s getting pushed around and shit, and he’s not getting any of the food. I think they’ve shunned him out of whatever pigeon society they’ve got going on, what do you think?”
“I think that’s very sad, Aomine-kun,” Kuroko muttered into Aomine’s bare chest. “Go to sleep.”
“Come on, Tetsu,” Aomine whined somewhere above Kuroko’s head, his voice low and rumbling. Probably feeling the peeved stiffness in Kuroko’s posture, he wrapped an arm around to play with the strands of hair that spilled onto the pillow, carding a hand through the locks. “Have some compassion.”
He was making this incredibly difficult for Kuroko to stay irritated. In retrospect, it was probably not the smartest idea to expose his weakness for Aomine to exploit (although really, who could blame him – he lived for casual hair pettings). And when Aomine hummed next to him, throat vibrating over Kuroko’s head, Kuroko finally caved. Sighing complacently, he slinked an arm around the other’s waist, fitting himself neatly against the crook of the other’s neck.
Honestly, if Aomine could keep his goddamn mouth shut, he’d be the perfect human body pillow.
“I’ll be compassionate in the morning,” he replied blearily. Aomine hummed again in response.
With Aomine finally silent, Kuroko could feel his lids sliding shut once again, the call of sleep alluring. He could definitely get used to this part of the night, at least, cocooned comfortably between Aomine and the bed, Aomine’s body radiating warmth against him, the planes of skin and muscle familiar against his bare skin, deft fingers tugging lightly against his scalp –
“You ever wonder if pigeons have a hierarchy to their society?”
“Aomine-kun,” he growled, turning his face to glare menacingly up at the other, “While I’m happy for you and your newfound passion for pigeons, please go to sleep or I will stab you.”
Although Aomine let out an indignant squawk, he, to Kuroko’s immense gratification, did not speak again as Kuroko was finally lulled into a deep sleep.