
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/488991.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroko_no_Basuke_|_Kuroko's_Basketball
  Relationship:
      Midorima_Shintaro/Takao_Kazunari
  Character:
      Midorima_Shintarou, Takao_Kazunari
  Additional Tags:
      Smut, Crossdressing, Cosplay
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-08-17 Words: 1976
****** In the Details ******
by Lys_ap_Adin_(lysapadin)
Summary
     In cosplay, attention to detail is of utmost importance.
Notes
     Adult for smut. Pretty much a PWP, because I saw this_picture on
     Tumblr and, uh, temporarily lost my mind. When I regained it, this is
     what I had perpetrated.
See the end of the work for more notes
"You must be joking," Shintarou says for lack of any better response in the
face of what Takao's wearing.
The way Takao smiles at that reminds him of nothing so much as the way Kise
would smile when he was trying to wind someone up. It sets off warning bells in
the back of Shintarou's head, but he can't spare enough attention for those,
not when Takao is smoothing his hands down the front of the dress (so much
pink, and there's something about how it's cut that creates the illusion that
Takao's waist nips in a bit between his chest and his hips in a way that
Shintarou is not at all comfortable with). "I toldyou that I was going to get a
costume to match yours," he points out.
There's a pink cap sitting on top of his head, the same shade as the demure
little uniform.
"I'm dressed as a doctor," Shintarou manages to say, though it sounds strangled
even in his own ears, probably because he's grinding his teeth so hard. "A
doctor."
"Exactly!" Takao practically chirps it. "You're a doctor and I'm your nurse. It
makes perfect sense."
It doesn't make any sense at all, Shintarou wants to say, despairing, but Takao
turns around and leans over to pick up his bag. The dress pulls tight and rides
up, showing the tops of the stockings he's wearing, sheer black things that
highlight the sleek shape of Takao's legs. Everything Shintarou would like to
say right now—complaints about Takao's obvious insanity, his opinions of school
festivals and cosplay cafés, bitter sorrow that the day's horoscope for Cancers
had falsely promised unexpected pleasures rather than the more accurate soul-
searing trauma—disappears in the static of white noise that crackles between
Shintarou's ears.
The pen in Takao's breast pocket slips out as he leans over and lands on
Shintarou's bedroom floor. Takao mutters something annoyed and bends over even
further to retrieve it. The dress rides up farther, establishing two definitive
facts that shake Shintarou's faith in the intrinsic logic and goodness of the
universe.
First, the stockings are edged with fine black lace and make Takao's legs look
longer than they actually are.
Second, Takao's underwear is as pink as the nurse's uniform itself. Pink and
satiny.
Shintarou sits down, not entirely of his own volition, and he's just lucky that
his bed is there to catch him.
"We'd better get going, there's still some setting up to do," Takao says as he
straightens back up and slips the pen back into place. "Just so you know,
you're walkingtoday and not—" Shintarou doesn't find out what he's not going to
do because Takao actually looks at him then and stops mid-sentence. His face
goes through several expressions in quick succession. At first he looks
confused, which turns to concern briefly before it shifts to something else,
puzzlement or maybe disbelief, and finally settles on amusement. "Everything
all right?"
Everything is most assuredly not all right. Shintarou opens his mouth to say
so, but what comes out is something else altogether. "Are you wearing panties?"
In a sane universe, Takao would look embarrassed. This is not a sane universe,
because he grins instead and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "Can't go
commando. This is a rental."
Shintarou can feel his brain attempting to shut down in self-defense, or
something. The heavens know that he tries to protest that gift of too much
information, though it mostly comes out garbled and incoherent.
Not that it matters. Takao is still grinning. Grinning and dropping his bag to
the floor again. "More importantly," he says, "were you looking, Shin-chan?"
"You flashed me!" Shintarou says as Takao takes a long step that brings him
away from the door and alarmingly close to the bed. "I couldn't help seeing!"
"A gentleman would have averted his eyes," Takao pronounces, which is
ridiculous on so many levels that Shintarou doesn't even know where to begin.
Lucky for him, or not, Takao doesn't give him the time to figure that out. He
stands over Shintarou, hands on his hips, and grins down at him. "Like what you
saw?"
"You're right," Shintarou says loudly, over the sound of his pulse pounding,
"we should get going. We don't want to be late."
Takao flaps a dismissive hand and sets it on Shintarou's shoulder when he goes
to get up. "There's no rush." He's still grinning, an unholy light in his eyes.
He's close enough that an alarming amount of Shintarou's vision is taken up
with pink. "You didn't answer my question."
"It was a stupid question," Shintarou says, leaning back, away from Takao and
the frankly disturbing uniform and wishing desperately that he had decided to
pick anything other than a doctor for his costume.
Trying to retreat is as grave a tactical error as the choice of doctor cosplay.
Takao slides a knee up onto the bed and leans over him, still grinning. "You're
avoiding the question." He all but lilts it as he swings his other knee across
Shintarou's lap. "Did you like it?"
"Absolutely not," Shintarou lies. "Don't be disgusting."
"You're lying," Takao sing-songs, walking his fingers up Shintarou's tie and
hooking them behind the knot, keeping him from pulling away any farther than
he's already gone. "Aren't you." It's not a question. Not really.
"We're supposed to be helping set up for the café," Shintarou says, adjusting
his glasses. "Stop screwing around and get off me."
"They're more comfortable than I expected them to be," Takao tells him, not
letting go of Shintarou's tie, because he's a bastard with a horrible sense of
humor and no boundaries whatsoever. "Kind of soft. Slippery. Feels nice, you
know?" He wriggles, perhaps in demonstration. "I could maybe get used to this."
"There are so many things wrong with that," Shintarou says, and tries not to
notice that the dress is riding up again, showing off the pale skin of Takao's
thighs. "So many things, I don't know where to begin."
"Don't knock it till you try it." Takao is leaning closer now, his voice
dropping, turning low. Intimate. "They're not feeling very stretchy, though."
What is that even supposed to mean—oh. Oh.
Shintarou looks down in spite of himself and all his best intentions, Takao's
laughter huffing warm against his cheek, and realizes that he's lost this game
at the same time he sees that—there's actually nothing to see, just the rucked-
up folds of the skirt and the tops of the stockings and Takao's thighs spread
across his lap. Fuck. "I hate you so much."
"No, you don't," Takao says, and then, "Want a better look?" He reaches for the
hem of the skirt without waiting for an answer and pulls it up around his
waist, and—those are definitely panties, pale pink and silky-looking and
showing the outline of Takao's cock very clearly where it presses against the
front of them. Shintarou's mouth has run dry while he stares at the obscene
shape it makes inside the silky fabric.
"So," Takao says, "wanna play doctor?" He's hard already, or getting there at
least—his cock is straining against the panties, filling them up in ways they
were never meant to be.
Midorima Shintarou is many things, but even he can admit that he's only human.
"When we're late, I'm blaming you," he tells Takao, and sets a hand on his
thigh.
"Sure, whatever." Takao leans forward and kisses him then, warm and wet, and
Shintarou's really just grateful that Takao's apparent need for cosplay
authenticity hasn't extended to wearing makeup to match the nurse's uniform.
The panties are just as silky to the touch as they look; Takao laughs against
his mouth when Shintarou runs his fingers over them edge of them, following it
over the curve of his ass. "You do like them, huh?" he says as he slides his
fingers through Shintarou's hair.
"Shut up," Shintarou says as he smoothes his fingers over Takao's cock, palming
him through the slick fabric. Takao does, after a fashion: he groans and
muffles it against Shintarou's mouth while Shintarou fondles him, stroking him
and squeezing him slowly until Takao is shifting back and forth over his lap,
rocking his hips in short, jerks. He groans again when Shintarou tugs the
panties down, just far enough that he can get his fingers around Takao and
stroke him properly. Shintarou works him with the sharp, precise strokes that
Takao likes best, until Takao swears and presses his forehead against
Shintarou's shoulder, shaking against him as he comes.
He makes a hell of a picture like this, with that stupid dress hiked up around
his waist and those ridiculous panties pulled down just far enough, flushed and
undone.
It's too much to hope for that Takao won't notice that he appreciates the
sight. Takao's too good at reading him, always has been.
This time is no different. When he raises his head, he's smiling. "So," he
says, voice pitched low. "You convinced yet?"
Convinced of what, Shintarou doesn't say, because Takao's already climbing off
his lap, moving loose-limbed and easy and looking like something out of a bad
skin magazine as he slips to his knees. The hat's still on his head, though
it's knocked askew, and the uniform is all rumpled now, showing the wrinkles
where it's been pushed up. None of that matters, or maybe all of it does, when
Takao reaches for his fly and undoes it.
"Are we still playing doctor?" Shintarou asks, or tries to. He's not sure if
that's what comes out of his mouth when Takao sets a hand on him, pumping his
cock a couple of times before he leans in and wraps his mouth around Shintarou
and starts sucking. Shintarou knocks the hat off him when he reaches for him,
but that doesn't even slow Takao down. All Shintarou's world narrows down to
Takao's mouth on his cock, the stroke of Takao's tongue and the wet pressure of
it as he sucks harder, and the vibration when he hums thoughtfully, and most of
all the way his eyes are laughing when he looks up at Shintarou.
Shintarou crams his fist against his mouth and gives up, groaning as pleasure
crests and breaks over him like a wave. It leaves him panting for breath after
when Takao finally pulls away, quiet unfurling inside his skull in the
aftermath of that. Takao lets him be while he stands and shimmies the panties
back into place with something like complacency. He mutters to himself while he
straightens out the uniform, brushing at the wrinkles in it, and finds the hat
where it's bounced to a resting place under Shintarou's desk. He uses the
mirror on Shintarou's closet to put it back into place, face screwed up with
concentration. Shintarou watches him with something that feels like
contentment, or maybe just complacency, until Takao apparently decides he's
restored himself as far as is possible and looks at him again.
He laughs, Shintarou doesn't know why, and claps his hands together. "Put that
thing away, Shin-chan. We've got places to be."
Oh. Right.
"I still hate you," Shintarou says after adjusting himself and his costume, but
when Takao holds a hand down to him, he allows himself to be hauled to his
feet.
"Sure you do," Takao says, scooping up his bag. He slants a glance Shintarou's
way. "You think maybe I should keep this uniform?"
"Please die," Shintarou tells him, meaning every word of it sincerely.
"So that's a yes," Takao concludes. He laughs all the way out the front door
while Shintarou tries to administer the smacking he so clearly deserves. And
Shintarou is very careful not to notice that he never corrected Takao's
misapprehensions.
He's many things, but he's not stupid, after all.
End Notes
     Some people enter a new fandom by writing thoughtful, reflective meta
     and/or character studies. Apparently I make my entrance via smut. Go
     figure.
     Comments are always lovely!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
