One-shots! {Gay NBA}

(i) Valentine's day (Kyrie x Jimmy)

It's Valentine's day, the perfect day to write up some requests! ❥

*Jimmy Butler POV*

All the guys participating in All-Star week is practicing in Chicago's United Center court. Everyone is enjoying themselves, but I can't help but feel really lonely. The guy I usually hang out with on All-Star weekend didn't get to play this year, Kyrie Irving. I look forward to playing with him for every Olympic event and All-Star weekend. He just has an overall funny personality that's irresistibly charismatic, and with all the media targetting him nowadays, I just want to protect him. He seems so vulnerable lately. Speaking of vulnerable, I feel like a loner, sulking on this bench. Kyle Lowry takes notice and jogs up to the bench, grabbing a Gatorade and quickly downing it. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and glances at me. "You look... depressed." I roll my eyes, "Gee thanks K-Low," he sniffles and sits beside me, watching the other guys play for a few moments.

"You miss Kyrie," he suddenly comments, I blink at him, pretending to be shocked, not willing to admit it. Kyle Lowry glances at me, a corner of his mouth pulls up in amusement. "I can tell, you have that face I had on the first game without DeMar." I cross my arms, "It's not like that," I mumble. Kyle takes another sip of his Gatorade, observing the 1 v 1 between Anthony Davis and Luka Doncic. "Well, I know for a fact that it's exactly like that," he says after a while. I snort. Who does he think he is? He wins a ring and all of a sudden he has authority over me.

He turns to me again, "You know why? No one is this depressed on Valentine's Day unless they miss somebody they Love," he grins as he jumps out of his seat and rejoins DeMar shooting 3 pointers. A part of my heart just sinks, realizing how true that statement was. I think about what it would be like, Kyrie in my arms. But, I don't deserve him, he's just... too good for me. His handles make grown men cry to their mom, his words are spoken as if he were a philosopher. I'm just a guy, who grew up homeless in Texas, heck, even my biological parents didn't want me.  I miserably sink into my chair, in deep thought.

I gaze over the court, LeBron is teasing Kawhi, talking about LA. Giannis is laughing hysterically at Siakam, they're talking about the Play-Off run they had together. DeMar slides in front of me, he picks himself up from almost falling, "Hey, Jimmy Buckets, Dame, Paul George, and your bestie Kyrie are here to visit," he winks. Great, Kyle Lowry probably told him about my whole dilemma. I drag myself off of the bench, I glance at the group of men standing around in casual clothes, talking to the All-Stars. My eyes scan for Kyrie and he catches my eye. His face lights up and he instantly runs over to me, a white charming grin spread across his face.

He wraps his hands around me and buries his face in my chest, but I can't help but feel bitter, knowing I'll never be able to have him as mine. I swallow my sorrows and hug back. He grabs the sides of my face and looks up at me. So cute. Kyrie chuckles, "How was the ride here without me? Boring?" he jokes. I almost instantly nod, "Yes, very. Why'd you have to go and get yourself injured so much this season?" Kyrie shrugs, sheepishly. "Can't help it, you know?" I go dark, "Yeah, like the reporters can't help but make you look bad," I say, my hands gripping the sides of his arms.

He seems taken aback for a bit but then softens into a smile. "You're so protective huh?" he jokes, eyes darting around the facility. I grab his chin and force his attention on me, "You're my best friend, of course, I'm protective of you."   His smile fades a bit at that, then he suddenly winces. "Are you okay?" I ask, concern lining my voice. He grabs his sprained ankle, "Yeah I'm fine, I just-" he falls onto me and I grab him by his sides. He laughs it off as he regains his balance, "It was just fine, I don't understand why it's acting up now." He says, almost to himself, as he clutches onto the cloth of my shirt. He looks up at me glinting a mischevious look, "I guess you make my ankles weak, huh?" he jokes. I blush, but concern overrules my attraction as I nervously glance at his injured knee. I bend down and wrap his arm around my neck, "Come on, we're icing that in the locker room," I quietly state, letting Kyrie's weight lean on me. "You're so extra, Butler."

I sit him down in front of my locker, I feel frustration bubble up in my stomach, It's stressful to see Kyrie in pain especially when he tries to hide it. "Kyrie. Why did you come here?" I coldly ask. Kyrie is surprised at my seriousness, but responds, "Well, I wanted to see you play, duh" What did I do to deserve such a gorgeous man as my friend, better yet best friend. I grab his shoulders, giving him a stern dark look, he lets out a small whimper. "Kyrie. You worry me to death, you know?" I feel his shoulders tense under my grip, he looks up at me a sad look plastered his face. "What's wrong?" I ask, my serious voice growing into a choked out desperate voice. Kyrie blinks, realizing I could read the melancholy on his face, "Nothing, I just-," he sighs, "Nothing, really." I sit by him and let him lean his head on my shoulder as I consolingly rub his back.  I feel tears dropping on my arms, I take one look at his red face and his teary eyes and quickly pull Kyrie into a hug. His head in my neck, he nuzzles in, I feel the tears flowing onto my neck. In a broken, stuttering quiver he whispers, "What did I do to deserve you?" I just hug him tighter.

I pull away and wipe his tears. My hand rests on the back of his neck as I take in all his features. I can't wait any longer, so I lean into him, kissing him. To my surprise, he kisses back, I can't help but smile in between the kisses. I wrap my arm around his waist as he rests his hands on my chest, while we continue to kiss. I pull away to let him catch his breath. I lean in close to him again and grab his hands, my eyes gleaming. "Will you be my Valentine, Kyrie Andrew Irving?" I ask, he freezes as if realizing he wasn't dreaming. He looks up at me with piercing dark eyes, "Anything for you, Bucket boy."

"You're so cute," I blurt out.

"Hm? Am I? All I've noticed is how smoking hot you are."

"Smoking hot, cause I'm a Butler. I'll cook you up"

Irving chuckles, "Make it nice and Kyri-spy?"

"Now that's Kyriediculous," I laugh.

"Come on, Jimmy G. Buckets, I can go on forever. I'm an English major after all"