Dᴀɪᴋɪ Aᴏᴍɪɴᴇ || A ʟᴏᴛ ᴏғ ғᴏᴏʟs ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴅᴀʏs. . . ̊˖𓍢ִ໋🏀

Tokyo's evening was warm and sticky, cicadas buzzing faintly even as the city lights flickered to life. It had been months since either of you had a full day off, Aomine between the Leagues season and the national team camp, you between a Paris show and a capsule collection deadline, so the walk was aimless on purpose. His hand was loose around yours, thumb rubbing slow circles over your knuckles. While walking, he kept pointing out the dumbest things to make you laugh, a stray cat guarding a vending machine, a salaryman asleep standing up at a crosswalk and so on.

But that's when he spotted something. A tiny konbini store with a banana milk display in the window, the yellow cartons stacked like little bricks.

"Hold up." He stopped dead in his tracks, already licking his lips as he let go of you. "Give me two minutes. Don't move. I'll go get us something. Don't wander off like a kid."

He was already walking backward, grinning that lazy, infuriating grin. "Stay right here. I don't want to go looking for you later."

You stayed put, busying yourself with your phone. For about ninety seconds, everything was peaceful. But then trouble came. Or rather... he came.

The voice slid in your ear from your left, low as it was drawling way too close for comfort. "Well, well. If it isn't my little famous designer."

That voice belonged to none other than Haizaki. He was older, but barely any different. He had the same sharp jaw, same bored eyes dragging over you like he was pricing something. He'd filled out, shoulders broad under a cheap jacket, as he planted himself right in your space like the sidewalk owed him room.

"Thought that was you." His head tilted, that familiar grin that made you uncomofrtable just like back then. "You got... a lot bigger since Teiko. Damn, look at you." His gaze dropped, lingered, then climbed back up. "You're a fashion designer now, huh? Guess all that money went to the right places."

You shifted your bag strap as you gave him a smile that was far from kind. "Hi. It's been a while."

"It has. Too long in fact." He leaned in, his arm braced against the wall behind you, boxing you in. "So what's the deal? You single now? 'Cause I remember you used to look at me like—"

You quickly cut him off. "Married." You lifted your hand, showing your ring.

He didn't pull back, if anything, he got even closer, his voice dropping into something meant to be smooth. "Oh yeah? That's just a piece of gold, babe. A simple man can't keep a woman like you satisfied, that's the problem. Just look at you." His hand lifted, hovering a centimeter from your chest, "You're stacked now. That dress is doing a lot of work to keep those sweet things inside."

You stepped back, offended at his words.

His mouth flattened. He clearly wanted more than your reaction. "Okay, what's with the face? You used to be more fun. You gonna actually talk to me or you just gonna stand there being married at me?"

He took another step as you let out a sigh, trying to find some excuse to leave.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You got your hubby waiting for you or something? I just know when he looks at me he'll scurry off like the little mutt he is." He waved your excuse off, but something in his tone sharpened. "You know how many women would kill for this? I'm standing here, complimenting you and you're giving me the polite little head-nod like I'm your dentist." His hand came down on the wall beside your head, thump, close enough that you flinched slightly. "Come on. Give me something. At least a kiss."

Before anything could ravel into something even more disturbing, a shadow fell over both of you.

Aomine hadn't run. But he'd covered the distance in the time it took Haizaki to finish being annoying. He held a plastic bag of banana milk and your favourite drink dangling from two fingers, as he came to a stop at your shoulder. He leaned in more to crowd Haizaki's space like it was a rebound.

"Haizaki."

"Aomine." Haizaki's smirk barely twitched. "Still following her around like back then, huh? Figured she'd have traded up by now and found someone worse. Didn't take you for a married guy."

Aomine didn't answer that. He just looked down at you, flat and unhurried while he asked, "He bothering you?"

He could only sigh, grabbing you firmly to his side. "Two minutes... I leave for two minutes and you're getting walled in by his bitch ass."

Haizaki scoffed, straightening up to his full height, chin lifting. "Relax. We were just catching up. My old friend's wife, that's fair game."

"Yeah?" Aomine's eyes narrowed, lazy and mean. "Then catch up without the chest commentary. She's not a scouting report."

Haizaki's grin went sharp. "What, you gonna fight me over her?"

Aomine, without any heat at all, without even putting the bag down, wrapped one arm around your waist, as he pulled you even further to his body. Not rough. Just claimed, decisive, the way he did everything. Haizaki's wall-brace was now useless since there was a whole Aomine between you and him now.

"Nah." Aomine smiled, slow and shitty. "Don't have to. She already went home with me years ago." He lifted his free hand, his ring finger aswell and wiggled it once. The gold caught the konbini light.

"See this? That's the whole argument. You're arguing with a piece of gold, man."

Haizaki stared at the ring. Then at you. Then at Aomine's arm welded to your waist. His jaw worked, and for a second he looked genuinely put out, robbed, almost, before he clicked his tongue and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Tch. Whatever." He stepped back, giving ground at last. "Fine. Keep her, then. You were always a greedy bastard anyway."

"Was always the best one too." Aomine said pleasantly. "Say hi to your shitty team."

Haizaki waved a hand over his shoulder, already walking as he threw back one last, "You know where to find me if he ever gets boring, {{user}}!" before the crowd swallowed him.

---

Finally, there was silence.

You exhaled, long and relieved, sagging against him. "That was—"

"Pathetic is what it was." Aomine finally let you go, but only to shove a carton of your drink into your hand. "You just stood there nodding like a bobblehead."

You crossed your hands, sipping from your drink. "He was being aggressive, I didn't want to—"

He cracked his own carton, drank, and looked at you sideways. "Yeah, I know. That's why I came back."

You frowned at him. "You were gone way longer than two minutes."

"Had to find the cold ones." He bumped your shoulder with his, casual, and started walking again, tugging you along. Then quieter, almost sulky: "...Next time some guy corners you, just say my name. I'll hear it."

You looked at him, the set of his jaw, the little crease between his brows that he'd deny having, and hid your smile behind the carton.

"He was right about one thing, you are stacked." Aomine muttered and tried to lift the mood, then took another long sip so he wouldn't have to say more, his eyes stealing a glance to your chest.

You walked on, his hand finding yours again, tighter than before. This time though, he didn't let go.

"Come on, I'm getting bored. You wanna ditch and go home or do something interesting than just walking?"