Can you write a drabble where Kid loses a bet and as consequence has to wear woman's clothes?
(Aaaahhh, I don’t mind the prompt so much, but tbh I’m not a fan of Kise in women’s clothing or cross-dressing in general. Unfortunately I have no muse to write something of that nature. I hope this works instead. There’s still a lost bet, but I mean, Kise naked is better than Kise with any kind of clothing, amirite?
Also, this is now my post for Teikou Aokise Day (a bit last minute, but still skirting by… also on AO3) and always for my pos buttface zucchini, limitlessmonster)
“When are you going to give up thinking you’ll beat me?”
Kise throws his hands up in the air in his wild protest. “Never! Especially not now. I’ve been training a lot harder than you probably have and I’ve got a few new tricks up my sleeve.” He shoves at Aomine’s shoulder. “I won’t lose this time.”
Aomine scoffs and shakes his head. “Keep dreaming, Kise.” He turns to head toward the court before pausing mid-step.
Kise cocks his head in confusion and opens his mouth to speak when Aomine turns back around, a wide grin spreading across his face. Kise knows that look. “Aominecchi?”
“If you’re so confident,” Aomine begins, waving a hand in Kise’s direction. “Let’s bet on it.”
“What?”
“Let’s make a bet,” Aomine repeats, holding out his hand. “You know Seirin?”
Kise nods. He knows it’s one of the schools at least one of them will be separated into when they leave Teikou.
“I heard their coach threatens to have them do some crazy shit,” Aomine’s lips smooth into a smirk. “And you’re gonna do it if you lose.”
Never one to back down from a challenge, Kise purses his lips and nods. “Fine. And if you lose?”
Aomine shrugs and turns to leave, heading toward the court. “Bets go both, Kise. I’ll do it,” He lifts a hand and waves Kise forward. “If I lose.”
~~~
Kise stands at the bottom of the bleachers, wringing his hands in the hem of his shirt. Now that the match is over, he regrets agreeing to that bet before letting Aomine explain this “crazy shit” he has to do.
Aomine stands at his back and Kise doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning. The score had been so close this time, close enough that it almost looked like Kise would pull through with the win. But here he stands, the loser of another one-on-one and this time the consequence is much more than a mere blow to his ego.
“Aominecchi, can’t we change the terms of this bet?” He glances over his shoulder, lips tight in his signature pout. “I mean, stripping down to boxers is embarrassing enough, isn’t it? I don’t need to take it all off, right? I mean, I already have to…” He trails off and grimaces. He isn’t ready to admit to his crush just yet and that’s exactly what he has to do, standing naked at the top of the bleachers in front of the Generation of Miracles.
“Hell no.” Aomine slaps his back and gently urges him forward. “Come on, idiot. You lost fair and square. Besides, what do you have to be embarrassed about? You’re half naked in most of your photo spreads anyway.”
“Not most of them.”
“Yeah, most of them.” Kise glances around Aomine and watches as the rest of their teammates file in. “Don’t tell me you’re one of the assholes who backs out on bets. Never figured you were one to go back on your word.” He shrugs. “Well, if you’re too chicken shit to do it, I’ll––”
“Fine!” Kise scowls and shoves Aomine back. He hates that Aomine knows how to get under his skin. “Fine! Don’t be ogling my perfect body, Aominecchi.”
Aomine chuckles and backs away, shaking his head. “Like you’ve got anything worth looking at, dumbass.”
“Tch,” Kise lifts a single finger and waves it Aomine’s direction before turning back toward the bleachers. He grimaces as he takes the first step up, slowly pulling his jersey over his head and dropping it as he moves higher and higher. His gym shoes follow, one after the other, abandoned on the steps.
“Mine-chin, what is Kise-chin doing?” He hears Murasakibara grumble around a mouthful of one of his wide collection of snacks.
“He lost a bet,” Aomine replies and Kise hears Midorima wonder aloud about Kise’s little strip show.
He tunes them out as he reaches the top of the bleachers, left in nothing but a pair of bright yellow boxers. He’s facing the wall, gathering the willpower to turn around and face his teammates. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he finally turns and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his last piece of clothing. He slides them down his legs and kicks them off, watching them flutter to the final seat at the bottom of the bleachers.
Someone mock cat calls from below and he doesn’t have to look to know it’s Aomine. He keeps his eyes facing forward, staring at the victory banners that run around the court. They taunt him, reminding him that a victory would have gotten him out of this mess. He’s not body shy, but he’s also never had the intention of baring it all in front of this mismatched bunch of people.
“Tell them why you’re up there, Kise,” Aomine shouts from below.
Kise grits his teeth. This is another part of the bet, admitting his loss aloud. “I lost a one-on-one against Aominecchi.”
“Lost what?” Aomine urges and Kise growls and rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Kise. Say it.”
“I lost another one-on-one to Aominecchi. I still can’t beat him.” He pauses and decides to add, “Yet.”
“So you lost that bet,” Aomine begins and Kise glances down in time to watch him sweep his arms out toward the other members of the Generation of Miracles standing around him. “Tell them who you’re crushing on.”
There’s a lump forming in Kise’s throat and he doesn’t think he remembers how to speak. He can feel all those colorful eyes staring at him and he hopes they’re looking at his face, despite the heat that burns his cheeks, instead of… other assets.
“Ryouta.”
He flinches at the sound of Akashi’s voice.
“Get on with it. I will not sacrifice any more practice time to the consequence of your defeat.”
Kise grimaces and takes a deep breath. “I––” He clenches his fists at his sides and finally turns his eyes on the rest of his teammates below. “I like––”
“Who?” Aomine encourages, a grin ready to spread across his lips.
“Aomine Daiki,” Kise nearly shouts. He watches Aomine’s jaw drop and sees Kuroko dip his heading in a knowing nod out of the corner of his eye. Midorima shoves his glasses up his nose, shaking his head as he turns away. There’s no reaction from Murasakibara, but he doesn’t expect one, and Akashi’s brow rises, a faint twitch at the corners of his lips is the only indication of his amusement.
Kise swiftly makes his way down the bleachers, gathering his clothing as he goes. He’s fully dressed the second he reaches the bottom of the bleachers and shoves past his teammates to head toward the locker room. He knows his face is beet red and saw a similar color darken Aomine’s cheeks as he passed.
He’s alone in the locker room, pressing his forehead against the cool metal of his locker door. He runs a hand down the front of his face and groans. He’s always imagined he’d admit his feelings in some romantic, cheesy way, preferably fully clothed. Not after admitting defeat in front of a team that only knows the taste of victory.
The door creaks open, but Kise doesn’t turn to see who has finally followed him into the locker room. He slowly pushes himself back and turns around to return to the court, holding his head high and pretending he’s not morbidly embarrassed about what just happened. But he comes face to face with Aomine and he stumbles back, losing that facade of confidence he exuded only seconds before.
“Shit,” He gasps, running a hand through his hair. “Aominecchi, I thought you were––” He shakes his head and bites his bottom lip. “Look, I wasn’t going to tell you like that, but you kinda gave me no choice and…” He runs a hand down his face, pulling the grimace even lower as he says, “I mean, I was going to tell you later. Probably.” He shakes his head again. “Maybe. I don’t know. I bet you thought I was gonna say some pretty girl, didn’t you? One of my fans or something, right? I don’t think I could ever like one of them. They’re so annoying and so clingy and––”
“Kise.”
“Probably would’ve gone better if I had clothes on though. I mean my–” He gestures toward his crotch as he continues. “was hanging out and it was kind of cold up there, to be honest, so I don’t want you thinking that was me at my best, because it sure as hell gets better than that. And––”
“Kise!”
“I don’t know why I’m even defending the fact that I was naked. I mean, look at me! I’m a model for a good reason. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I look damn good in and out of clothes. So you just––”
Kise falls silent when a warmth, soft and pliant, covers his lips. He doesn’t realize how close he is to the lockers until his back hits the door and Aomine’s hand braces against the metal beside his head. His lips part in a soft sigh and Aomine’s tongue tentatively caresses his own before he pulls back, cheeks flushed a shade as dark as Kise’s feel.
“You’re right,” Aomine says after a prolonged silence. His lips twitch into a grin as he stares into Kise’s eyes. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” He takes a step back and grabs Kise’s hand, tugging him forward. “Now let’s go before Akashi stabs us for delaying practice.”
Kise grins as follows behind Aomine, glad that he can’t see the smile spreading across his lips. Sometimes, he thinks, even when you lose, you still win an even better prize than you expected. He gives Aomine’s hand a squeeze.
