Work Text:
When Aomine showed up at his doorstep unannounced with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, Kagami already had sheets in the dryer and teriyaki patties resting in the fridge. It was a familiar pattern. Aomine dropped his bag in Kagami’s room and they fucked against the wall, but he wouldn’t let Kagami kiss him, and Kagami had expected that too.
They washed up and hit the streets for dinner. Aomine wanted Mexican, because avocados weren’t the same in Japan. Kagami took him to his favorite taqueria and tried not to want too much when Aomine licked grease and birria from his fingers.
By the time they’d finished eating the sun was beginning to set. Aomine led them wordlessly to Santa Monica, loping around street corners like he’d lived in LA his entire life. They passed by a neighborhood basketball court along the way and kept walking. It had been years since they’d played against each other, even in a game of pickup. But when they arrived at the pier, Aomine kicked off his shoes and dashed unexpectedly into the water. Kagami stared after him—Aomine in the surf, hair tinged blue from the refraction of light on water, resisting wave after breaking wave. Kagami had never known Aomine during his middle school days, but he’d heard stories from Kuroko and thought this was what Aomine must have been like before Touou, before Teikou.
He kicked off his own shoes and stumbled after Aomine. The wet sand sucked and pulled at his feet, but Aomine caught him by the forearm and dragged him up. Aomine tasted like salt, but maybe it was just the sea churning around them. Kagami couldn’t tell. What are you running away from? he wanted to ask, except he didn’t really want to know the answer.