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Frying pan well clutched in his hands, Aomine took a deep breath as he was staring at his own apartment door. The frustration of permanently ruined cartoon movie night paired up with the terrifying idea he’d have to spend the night with Kagami’s scary brother was hitting hard at his gut.
“In my past life I must have been a terrible person to deserve all of this.” He thought as he walked inside his apartment, not really ready to face a drunk and fisty Himuro.
The house was silent. That generally would have been a good sign, maybe Himuro was fast asleep but there was something unsettling, something Aomine couldn’t clearly pinpoint. He moved towards Kagami’s bedroom, where Himuro was carefully placed moments earlier by his brother, before he basically forced Aomine to babysit him. The door was slightly open. Here’s the crack in the code: that was closed when they left. Carefully opening it wide, attempting not to make any noise in case the emo demon was sleeping, Aomine peeked inside the room and there he got his first heart attack: the bed was empty. No Himuro to be found.
Starting to panic he quickly scanned the apartment around praying that he didn’t go outside. He was freaking out until he noticed his own bedroom door open, from the corridor, he could peak in and someone was sitting on his bed.
“You gotta be shitting me!” he groaned, reaching over to where Himuro was sitting. There was a pungent and repugnant stench in the room, it smelled like beer and onions. Fear stroke through his spine with anticipation of what could have happened. When he turned the light on, his heart wasn’t ready for the terrible show that was about to unfold before his eyes, in his very own room: his pillows along with a good part of the upper bed was drenched in vomit. Himuro was just sitting besides the disaster, unconcerned, as he wasn’t even in the room.
“What the fu- “ Aomine was so outraged he could not think straight: “What happened here?!” he screamed pointing towards the wet, smelly mess with the frying pan in his hand. Himuro didn’t care as he sat up driven by another inner movement, he grabbed the frying pan from Aomine’s hands and proceeded to finish emptying his stomach. Fortunately, Aomine’s gag reflex was pretty solid, otherwise there would have been terrible consequences.
Aomine closed his eyes, trying to calm down. That room required a fire sterilization. Despite the idea of burning the whole place down, Himuro included, being extremely appealing, Aomine had to remind himself that arson and murder were crimes and he was already being punished too much.
“Can you stand?” he asked. Himuro looked up, maybe a little too fast and he felt his head dizzy: he was about to fall face front in the pan of vomit. Aomine caught him just in time and, with a ton of patience he didn’t know he had, he helped him up, taking him away from the bed: “Come on, let’s get you something to sleep in.” he said as they were cruising towards Kagami’s bedroom. They just managed to move few steps into the corridor when Himuro abruptly stopped: “I want to shower!” Aomine’s widened: “Tomorrow.” he stated proceeding in this slow, excruciating room to room walk.
A sharp pain cut his breath, just below his ribs. Himuro punched him. It was hard for him to be holding back.
“I need shower!” Himuro was firm and before Aomine could protest again, he turned around and bit his arm. Aomine winced in pain, almost making him fall.
“Fine.” He spitted as they walked into the bathroom. He helped Himuro getting rid of the coat and shoes and was about to do the same with the hoodie when he was abruptly pushed back: “Noo! What are you doin'!!”
That same question had been resonating in Aomine’s brain for the past hours: “I’m helping you. It’s dangerous: if you fall and break your skull, Kagami will bash mine!”
But Himuro didn’t want to hear any of that: “Get out!”
“No, the shower is slippery, you might fa-“ a flying boot almost hit him in the head, his reflexes saved him from a black eye.
“Okay, fine but the door stays unlocked!”
He walked outside leaving the door slightly open, enough for him to peek inside and check that his unwanted guest didn't hurt himself in any way, shape or form.
After peeling off his clothes, Himuro slowly climbed into the bath tub were he sat down, letting the water fall over him. He was dozing off, his nape leaning against the wall.
Since he was being quiet and in a non so dangerous position, Aomine decided to take advantage of the situation to grab him some fresh clothes. Two steps, that was how distant he was when he heard a loud thud from inside the bathroom and a whining voice soon after that.
“Not even ten seconds! For fuck’s sake!” he bashed the door open and there he saw yet annother mess: the shower head and arm were dangling outside of the tub, flooding the bathroom while Himuro was crouched down, rubbing his lip.
“Goddamit!” Aomine rushed inside, he closed the water, threw a couple of huge towels on the floor and hurried to help Himuro out. Now that his lip was in pain, he didn’t care about Aomine in the room.
After he was safely seated on the toilet, Aomine helped him dry his hair and pull inside one of Kagami’s old track suits.
“Daiki, my lip…”
“I know, I know…” he sighed reaching for the plasters and hydrogen peroxide in the cabinet above the sink. He poured a bit of the solution onto a cotton puff but before he reached the injured part, he held up his finger, warning Himuro: “This is going to sting. Don’t you fucking dare biting me or I swear to all the deities in this world, I’ll make you fly out of the window.”
Himuro nodded and, oddly enough, didn’t overreact when Aomine disinfected his wound. He then proceeded to help him up and finally bring him to bed.
As he leaned him down, making sure he was o his side to avoid accidental chocking Himuro started to drift off for good. “Your’e such a nice person…” he muttered clutching the covers under his neck. He would never say it out loud, but Aomine felt a pinch of gratitude for his efforts to be eventually recognized.
Himuro curled up further under the blankets: “…you’re a good friend... Ryouta.”
Aomine’s fist clenched. He was fighting hard to repress the urge to slap him in the face, instead, he softly patted his head, getting close to whisper in his ear: “Next time, I’ll leave you drowning in your own vomit, you ungrateful bastard!”
Speaking of, he reminded of the unruly mess that his room and the bathroom were in. He was about to take the mop but then he had a second thought. He put on Kagami’s favorite sweatpants and hoodie, pulled out the sleeping sack they had for emergencies and drifted off. He promised he’d be watching over Himuro and so he was about to do. He already knew how to take his Karma back.
It was well after noon when Himuro eventually woke up. He padded towards the kitchen, his head pulsing badly, the ache getting even worse as he faced the bright light in the kitchen. There was Aomine, sitting at the table as he went over a model magazine.
“Good morning!” he greeted, way too cheerful and loud for Himuro's taste.
“Oh, fuck! My head is killing me”
Aomine smirked: “Oh, you poor thing.” He closed the magazine and stood up, directing himself towards the coffee machine: “You know, the first time I got drunk I was seventeen. I was still living with my parents and my father was livid.”
Himuro wasn’t really following as he sat down on the table, vigorously massaging his temples in a void hope for the pain to go away. Aomine poured some hot coffee into a couple of mugs: “You know the following day I was feeling like shit and my mother, saint woman, a very devoted one, told my dad: “Takeru, God doesn’t give us challenges we can’t handle”” he slid a cup towards Himuro. Taking place in front of him.
“You know, my mother did have a solution in mind and I want to share her wisdom with you today.” Himuro didn’t reply, he just peeked at him from under his messy bangs.
“Do you want to know what the best way to fight a hangover is?"
Aomine was smirking, it was obvious he had something in mind but Himuro wasn’t in a state to understand that. All he wanted was for his head to stop pulsing so he might as well go with whatever Aomine had to offer. He weakly nodded.
Aomine’s grin widened, he stood up, and exited the room to come back with the mopping set: “Sorry to disappoint, I don’t have the answer, why don’t you look for it under the mess you made yesterday?"
Himuro was confused: “What? Like... what with your mom?”
Aomine shrugged: “I don’t know, I was making that story up.” he put a plastic bag over the table: “These are the gloves, all the cleaning products are under the kitchen sink.”
He glanced down at his watch: “Oh my, I’m late for practice.” He said putting his coat on: “I’m coming back by six. I want my room to be squeaky clean by then. If you can’t clean the bed sheet, buy new ones. Is that right?”
Normally, Himuro would have snapped at him but this time he wasn’t I a position to protest and, much to his pride, he found himself having to obey.
“Fine. I’ll clean your room.” He sighed.
Aomine grinned as he was getting out of the apartment: “That’s nice of you. Thank you so much, Ryouta!”