Aomine leans his head against the back of the couch, slouched down and brooding. That had been one hell of a fight. He can’t remember a time before now where it had been so bad. Both of you shouting, yelling terrible, hurtful things you didn’t mean; at least he didn’t, he wasn’t so sure about you. 

He shakes his head. No, there was no way you meant any of that, or maybe just some of it, but not the deep shit. You’re just… angry. So, so angry. 

And he doesn’t want you angry, not like this. 

He sighs, carding a hand through his hair. How can he fixed this? Is it even fixable? 

The sound of water hit his consciousness; you’re taking a shower. Immediately images of you fill his mind; wet and slick, soft and warm. He groans low in the back of his throat, a mixed sound of frustration and arousal because of course he’d get hard now when there was literally no chance whatsoever of you doing anything about it. 

But that idea leads to another and he sits up, semi-hard but contemplating… yes… maybe… maybe that could work…

He stands, makes his way to the bedroom and hurriedly shoves all the dirty clothes on the floor into an already overfilled hamper which gets stuffed into the closet whose door he slides shut. 

He straightens then smooths the bed sheets, pulls out half burned candles and lights them. No music, that’s too much, but maybe-

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Your voice has him spinning round on his heel. There you are, wrapped in a towel, your hair soaked, one hand on your hip. You’re still angry, but there’s a spark of curiosity in your eyes and that’s something he can work with. 

“Lay down,” he says pointing to the bed. 

You shake your head, make way to the closet. “Thanks but no, I still can’t stand to look at you. I’m gonna stay with Satsuki tonight.”

Aomine is there in a flash, holding shut the door keeping back the avalanche of crap he knows will rain down if you open it. 

“What the fuck Dai-” you snap but he cuts you off with a kiss, his strong arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

You push back, losing the towel in the process, the heat of your bare chest pressing against his own. “Get off me, Aho! I don’t want-”

He grabs your chin between his fingers, hard enough to stop you but not to bruise. “I’m sorry,” he grunts. 

“Idiot, I know you’re not really, you still don’t even know why I’m so pissed at you!” 

His hands clasp your shoulders, thumbs rubbing over the skin. You stare at each other for what feels like forever and then he kneels to the ground. 

“Daiki, what are you doing?” you ask, voice quieter. 

His hands slide up the backs of your legs to your ass which he grabs palms full of. Before you can chastise him he looks up and says, “I’m not good with words.” He leans forward, licks your slit from base to the tip of your clit making you moan despite yourself. “So I’ll use my mouth in another way to make it up to you.” 

Still you push against his shoulder and he complies, pulling back to look up at you once more. “This isn’t how you settle an argument and I’m not giving you anything in return.” 

Aomine grits his teeth, swallows vitriol. “This isn’t to settle or win. Plus, you don’t have to do anything for me.” 

See how sorry I am?

Your eyes meet again. He seems sincere, really willing to set aside not only his pride– partially at least– but his own pleasure. 

Finally, you nod. “You better do a thorough job,” you say, walking past him to lie on the bed. 

He smirks, moving between your spread legs. “When have I ever not?”

Well, you can’t really argue with that.